The Phoenix Queen
by theunlikelygirl
Summary: Aero is a queen blessed with magic. Beloved because she is kind and generous, she soon finds that kindness can get her killed in Westeros. She travels to King's Landing in anticipation of King Joffrey's wedding where she meets a fallen knight, a lowly blacksmith, and a lesser lord of a great house. Suddenly, she is torn between what she wants and what is best for her kingdom.
1. The Foreign Queen

AN: AU (Kind of) where Gendry stays in King's Landing and Loras is not a member of Joffrey's Kingsguard. Yet.

This is my first fanfiction. Like, ever. I don't have a beta. I'm still new to all this, but I thought I might meet some cool people that like the same things I do. Friends?

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Joffrey scowled and shifted impatiently in his chair. He did not like to be kept waiting. And this woman—this Queen of the West was late.

He sat with his company, his mother at his right, his betrothed, Margaery Tyrell at his left, and his grandfather, Tywin Lannister, just past that. They were seated under a canopy on a balcony high in the Red Keep. He casually noted that the last time a group gathered here, it was his name day and Sansa Stark had sat at his side on the raised platform. Now she sat at the farthermost chair to his left next to her husband, Tyrion Lannister, uncle to the king. Joffrey gave a derisive snort at the two together. Their marriage provided him endless entertainment and mockery.

He pulled at the collar of his tunic refusing to accept that perhaps his mother had been right this morning when she suggested the thinner fabric of the green tunic instead of the scarlet one he currently wore with his gold sash. The days were growing shorter, but King's Landing was as hot as ever and even the breeze from Blackwater Bay could not give relief.

"Grandfather, remind me when this woman said she was to arrive at the Keep."

"Midday, Your Grace."

"And are the Eryatheians capable of following time, or does it run differently in the lands to the west?"

Margaery leaned toward him and placed her hand on his. "It is only just past midday, my love."

Joffrey jerked his hand away. "Yes and just past midday is not midday, is it? She's late. Does a king's time count for nothing?"

Tywin Lannister examined a fingernail, bored with his grandson's insolence. "While the queen's belatedness is not ideal, it would be in the realm's best interest if our frustrations were not mentioned. We may have won the North, but there are others that would seek to supplant you, Your Grace. An alliance with Eryatheia can only be in our best interest."

Joffrey was only partially listening. His grandfather's lectures on manners and civility were immensely boring. He was only brought back from letting his mind wander when Ser Meryn Traunt called out.

"Your Grace, could that be the queen's company?"

A small company of people could be seen just inside of the Mud Gate. They all wore heavy woolen black cloaks that hid their faces and carried no banners, but surely this must be the Eryatheians. Joffrey looked, but did not see a palanquin, wheelhouse, or anything that could hold the guest queen. He huffed loudly and sat back in his seat. They were all the way at the bottom of Aegon's High Hill. It would take them more than half an hour to reach the Red Keep if they were carrying supplies and personal belongings for themselves as well as their queen.

He was perfectly committed in being quite discontent for the time that it took the queen to reach him. He set his scowl again and went over what he knew of House Vysrane. His grandfather had made him sit in a meeting where they discussed Eryatheia's imports, exports, ruling family, and a great many other boring details. The Vysrane family took the phrase "A Mighty Inferno" as their house words. Their sigil is a Phoenix and their banner is a red phoenix flying in a black sky though the queen's personal banner is a white phoenix in a red sky. It never occurred to him to ask why. The Vysrane family has held the throne in Eryatheia for over 2,000 years since Helius Vysrane. They called him Helius the Undaunted. The West calls the Eryatheian queen Aero the Blessed. But in the streets, the people call her The Phoenix Queen. As he wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead, Joffrey silently pondered what name history would bestow upon him. Something gallant, no doubt.

With any important visitor, there were rumors. There were a great many rumors—that she could breathe fire like a dragon and had the strength of a bear. But those were just rumors, Joffrey decided. A woman could not be a dragon or a bear. He hears that she is beautiful. Like all of the others, she is beautiful. He found it interesting that when men spoke of women, they were either beautiful, or they were not. It didn't surprise him that when he heard tell of other royal or highborn families, their daughters were beautiful. After all, if you're going to have a decoration, it might as well be worth looking at.

His gaze wandered to his betrothed on his left. Margaery was beautiful. She was educated the way that highborn ladies should be. She adhered to the courtesies expected of her and dressed in a way befitting a lady of her class and wealth. He let his attention travel farther down the row. Sansa was also a lady. But Sansa was scared of everything. Rightfully so, Joffrey mused. A traitor's daughter should be fearful. He settled back into his chair wondering what kind of woman this queen would be when he noticed the guards turning their attention toward the skies.

It happened all at once. As more guards began to look up, there were screams of terror. One man bolted from his position and ran, armor clanging all the while, from his post. The Kingsguard, standing underneath the canopy with their king, drew their swords and rushed to meet the foe that they could not yet see.

Jaime Lannister squinted as he looked up. Above him in the sky was the largest horse he had ever seen. But it was flying! He could understand why the men were terrified. Its coat shined black as ink and with a wingspan the length of eight tall men, the beast looked like a small dragon from a distance. Particularly since most of these men had no idea what a dragon even looked like.

"Hold!" he demanded of his archers as they knocked their arrows. One archer ignored his order and let loose an arrow at the beast's heart. The great horse tilted to the side and the arrow skimmed over its shoulder with no harm. "I said hold, dammit!" he shouted.

"Clear the way!" shouted a voice and only then did he notice that there was someone sitting astride the great black beast. The stranger was clad in black as dark as his mount and with the sheer size of the winged-horse, it was no wonder that he had overlooked the rider. Whether the men heard the stranger or not, they dived out of the way when the horse and its rider turned to glide down to the balcony. It came in at an angle from the western sky to the right. The horse's great wingspan lessened as it continued its descent, folding completely by the time it came to a stop mere feet away from where Jaime stood.

The horse gave a snort and swished its massive tail as it settled into a comfortable standing position. No sooner had the horse stopped then the stranger tossed a leg over the beast's back and landed gracefully in front of the company. Though the stranger wore trousers, Jaime could now see that there was no mistaking her for a man at this range.

The helm she wore was the same ink black as her steed and her clothing. It featured a wing on either side made up of long shards of onyx and obsidian layered to give the illusion of depth as it extended from her temple and curved to meet the other wing at the back of her helm. Jaime noticed that aside from the helm, she lacked armor, choosing instead to wear a suit that looked to be layers of thin leather. Black over black over black, all cut out in intricate designs giving it the look of a supple lace that seemed as a second skin as it clung to her. Red and gold embellishments could be seen woven in between the leathers like embers burning in a blackened hearth. Her shoulders bore identical fastenings of red feathers sewn into black cut leather that held a long black cape. The belt that held her sword seemed to be made out of the same red feathers and cut leather as the fastenings of her cape.

She was tall, Jaime noted. Even without the chunky wedge heel of her black knee-high boots, she stood almost as tall as him.

The stranger took a moment to survey her surroundings. Everyone was either too shocked or too afraid to address her as she stood before her winged-horse when the horse itself stood thrice as tall as any man. She brought her hands up to pull the helm off her head and Jaime, who had not yet sheathed his sword moved forward a step, wary. As she removed her helm, a cascade of long raven black hair fell loose down her shoulders and back in gentle waves. Her skin was tanned—typical of the Eryatheian people, but hers also seemed to have something else that made her skin glow like honey in the sun. And even from this distance Jaime couldn't miss her eyes with flecks of gold that sat like burning embers in pools of blue so bright she matched the sky. On her brow sat a thin gold circlet encrusted with fire opals.

A crowd had gathered upon hearing the shrieks of the men. They gaped at the sight of the foreign queen.

"You may put that away, ser," she said speaking to Jaime and gesturing at the sword he was still holding. "I mean no harm."

"Your Grace," Jaime nodded, sheathing his sword. Even so, he kept his hand on the pommel. This new queen comes from the sky on a great beast and yet she has no protection other than her own sword. Something didn't seem right to him.

 _'She is beautiful_ ,' Joffrey noted with wide eyes. He was, of course, thinking about the winged-horse. The queen was decent enough, he supposed, but much less interesting than a flying horse. Her face was too long and her cheeckbones to prominent to be really beautiful. _'Women should be soft with rounded cheeks and delicate sensibilities. They did not carry swords.'_ Joffrey stood from his chair and descended from the raised platform toward the foreign queen and her great beast of a horse. He should have stayed in his seat and let his guest come to greet him, but his curiosity overcame his pride. He wanted that winged horse and she was going to give it to him.

She did not bow when she addressed him. She merely took off her glove and extended her hand to him. "King Joffrey," she nodded, looking him in the eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Joffrey was taken aback by the turn of events even if he tried desperately not to show it. He put on a smile as his grandfather had told him to do and greeted his guest.

"Queen Aero of Eryatheia." He dipped his head slightly not breaking eye contact as he extended his hand. His mother's words echoed in his mind _'Anyone who isn't us is an enemy.'_ And you don't take your eyes off of your enemy.

"Just Aero, please. I prefer to be called Aero." She shook Joffrey's hand instead of letting him kiss her knuckles as was traditional in Westeros. He was unaccustomed to being greeting in such a manner and when she released his hand, he took a moment to size her up.

Cersei stood from her chair and folded her hands in front of her. "Welcome to King's Landing, Queen Aero. I hope that you will—"

"Your horse. How is it that it has wings?" Joffrey questioned, interrupting his mother and her nonsense formalities.

"She is one of the Connemarra, a different breed from common horses. I suspect much like the difference in your common wolves and the direwolves of House Stark." She smiled and gestured to the winged-horse as an invitation for Joffrey to get a closer look.

"I would like one for my stables. A wedding gift, perhaps," he said, walking around the great horse. His head didn't even reach the height of the underside of the horse's belly. It would be difficult to climb onto and he didn't know how a saddle would work with the horse's wings, but visions of himself flying over the heads of the peasants and making them fearfully hide in their homes gleefully ran through his thoughts.

Aero frowned, not bothering to hide her expressions. "The Connemarra is as sacred as the phoenix in Eryatheia. They belong to the land and owned by no one. Ovid does not belong to me. She is my friend." She raised her arm above her head to scratch the underside of the horse's neck affectionately. The winged-horse dipped its large black head to nuzzle at her shoulder. "Ask anything else within my power and it is yours, but this is a gift I cannot give you."

Joffrey narrowed his eyes at the foreign queen and considered having his guards take the horse to spite her. He was still plotting how to acquire this winged-horse when he heard his grandfather clear his throat. Lord Tywin stood and without a word commanded the attention of the company. "Queen Aero," he began when he gained everyone's eyes.

"Just Aero, please," she reminded him politely.

"Aero," he conceded with a nod. "Would you like to retire to your chambers after such a long journey? We have accommodations for your company, and your …horse will be well taken care of in the king's stables."

The Eryatheian queen shifted her helm from one hip to the other. She had undergone intense learning sessions with her councilors on the major houses of Westeros and the royal family. As she studied the individuals either standing or sitting on the platform in front of her, it was easy to identify them by name.

"If it wouldn't be an imposition, Lord Tywin, I would actually like to retrieve my belongings from my ship before I settle in. My men will not need accommodations. They are sea-faring men that usually only venture ashore for supplies or the company of women. They have their own quarters in the ship." She paused in amusement as she considered the size of a typical stable stall. The great black horse would never fit. "Ovid will be more comfortable in the fields outside of the city, but I am most grateful for your hospitality."

"Yes. That will be fine," Tywin narrowed his eyes, suspicious of why the Eryatheians would allow their queen to sleep in the Red Keep without a guard to protect her. "Your servants will be helping you with your possessions, then?" Tywin was wary. If she didn't have guards, perhaps she had a great host of servants.

"I have ten men to help me load a couple of wagons we will rent from the harbor."

"You only brought ten men with you?" Cersei asked, shocked at the idea a queen could possibly travel with less than a host of four hundred men.

Aero turned her attention to the golden-haired queen and felt a smirk at the corner of her mouth. "Eleven, actually. My captain of the ship is the paranoid, ornery sort and he will refuse to leave the ship unattended in a strange port."

Joffrey moved to stand beside Aero and looked around only just noticing that something was amiss. "Where is your Queensguard?"

Aero shrugged at the boy king. "I've never particularly cared for the idea of asking people guard my life at the expense of their own. If someone wants to kill me, I'd rather them not take innocent lives with them." To be fair, she was only a few years older than he. But the differences seemed suddenly so obvious. He was impatient, impertinent… spoiled. _'I will never allow myself to become such a person,'_ she thought to herself.

Tywin found the queen's lack of men more suspicious than if she would have brought an entire garrison. "We were prepared for a much larger number in your group, Queen Aero. Perhaps you would give us the pleasure of hosting you in our smaller dining hall instead of the great hall for dinner. After you have rested, of course."

Aero nodded her consent. "You honor me. Your generosity and welcome is very moving."

Cersei swatted away a bug, bored now. She gathered her skirts to step down from the platform and addressed Margaery almost as an afterthought. "Lady Tyrell, would you show Aero to her chambers when she returns with her belongings?" Cersei excelled at conveying any emotion that she wanted with a single glance. The look that Cersei threw over her shoulder at Aero was a challenge. _'Hear me roar,'_ she thought as she passed into the shadows. _'The lions will eat her alive.'_

Margaery smiled at the young queen. She was hoping for a chance to speak with her away from Lannister ears. Margaery was a chameleon in the way that she adapted to her environment. She extended her hand in greeting the way that she had seen Aero do to Joffrey. "Your Grace, it would be my honor to show you to your chambers. I am Margaery of House Tyrell. Might I walk with you to retrieve your things? My brother can escort us, if you wish."

Aero took Margaery's hand and held it for a moment, reveling in the softness. They were lady's hands—hands that had never held a sword or been scratched or burned. Aero was suddenly very aware of her own hands, rough from work and weapons training.

The lack of a Queensguard in her company was unsettling to Jaime. Surely the woman is not so senseless as to come to a kingdom at war without at least two hundred trained swords at her command. He pulled Loras to the side out of the earshot of others. "Something isn't right. Scope out the ship. Find out what you can," Jaime commanded. Loras nodded to the Lannister and turned his attention to the ladies.

Like his sister, Loras smiled brightly. Whether the smile was fake or not, Aero couldn't tell. "I would, of course, be most pleased to escort you to your ship." Also like his sister, Loras Tyrell was a master at mimicking civilities and when Aero held out her hand to shake, he dipped into a bow and brought her hand to his lips instead. When he rose, a dangerous smirk curved on his lips. "Loras Tyrell, Your Grace."

Aero smiled genuinely at his trickery. "Call me Aero." She shifted her helm to her other hip again and pulled off her left glove, tossing the pair of them casually into the well of her helm. "Your escorting skills are not needed, Ser Loras, but your company would be most welcome. Come, please, and tell me about Highgarden."

The three walked together, ignoring River Row and instead taking the narrow side streets. Ovid lazily flew overhead for a while until she saw something in the Kingswood across the bay that caught her eye. Loras allowed Margaery to prattle on about Highgarden as he studied the young queen. The people moved aside, not for him in his expensive silk clothes or for Margaery, their beautiful queen to be. You could see it in their faces; they moved aside for her. Whether it was out of fear or curiosity, he couldn't say. They had never seen anything like the warrior woman dressed in black with a sword at her side and a crown on her head.

Testing her, Loras took a side street that led beside Littlefinger's brothel. Littlefinger was among those that greeted Queen Aero at the Red Keep. He wanted to see how she reacted to the bastards and whores and commoners that littered King's Landing. Margaery treated them kindly and everyone loved her for it. Loras had no patience for them unless they were in his bed. The people loved him as well, though he wasn't particularly bothered that it was because he could hold a lance instead of a conversation.

Margaery looked around only just noticing where they were. "Loras?"

He turned his attention toward his sister, face expressionless. "Hmm?"

Margaery frowned at her brother. "We were headed down Eel Alley. Why did you turn to come by Lord Baelish's… establishment?" She linked arms with Aero and began to walk at a quicker pace.

"I can't imagine what you mean, sweet sister." Loras smirked and turned away, leading them forward. "Is this not a shortcut?"

Aero caught the face that Margaery made at him behind his back. It very much reminded her of the ugly faces she made at her brothers when they annoyed her.

Her advisors were very interested in Lord Petyr Baelish so much so that they spent a great deal of time explaining to her both his character and his hobbies. _'Terribly cunning with a smile that knows all your secrets,'_ they had said. She knew that one of his hobbies was acting as proprietor of a local brothel. Women leaned seductively in doorways and out of the upper windows. Some were beautiful, some plain, some exotic, but they all took notice when Ser Loras passed by. Aero wasn't even slightly scandalized at the detour. On the contrary, she stared at the women in their too-thin silk dresses. They intrigued her. They had dreams and needs the same as her. She often reflected on the circumstances of her birth-how things would have been terribly different if she had been born into a family other than her own.

One of the women with dark auburn hair and a very well-endowed chest winked at Aero. Aero's face reddened and she turned away. However, her attention was pulled toward the brothel again when she noticed that one of the young women had a black eye and bruise that covered half of her face. She pulled away from Margaery and walked straight for the girl who was hurriedly attempting to use her long blond hair to cover the blotched purple and black skin. The young woman was uncommonly beautiful with small delicate features that stood out even with the horrendous bruise on her face.

"Your Grace," the girl dipped into a low curtsey as Aero approached her. Aero took the girl's hands and pulled her up, brushing the hair away from the girl's face.

"What's your name, sweet girl?" Aero questioned.

"Aribet," the girl answered meekly. "But everyone calls me Bet."

"One of your clients did this to you?"

Bet wouldn't look up to meet Aero's eyes. She kept her face downcast and nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

Aero cupped the girl's jaw lightly in her hand and pulled her face upward. The bruise ran deep. And it was fresh. There were still pink patches that had yet to darken. Aero cursed under her breath and Bet's eyes widened, unsure of what to do. Without warning, the queen cupped the other side of the girl's jaw and leaned in to give the girl a quick kiss on her ruined cheek. She flinched. The kiss had obviously hurt the young woman, but just as she recovered from the pain, the colors in Bet's face began to move. The purples, blacks, and pinks moved like dye in water across her cheek to meet at the spot where Aero's lips had touched the skin. For a moment it looked as though the girl had a purple lip print on the side of her face, but it began to fade into her skin and when Bet reached up to rub at her cheek, she found that her bruise had gone.

"Be well, Bet." Aero leaned down to kiss the young woman on the forehead this time. She pulled away leaving the girl still with her palm pressed to her cheek. Reaching out to Margaery, Aero found Margaery's hand and linked fingers with the shocked Tyrell. She pulled Margaery with her, continuing down the road as Loras looked from Aero to Bet, and then back to Aero again. It was impossible, and yet he had seen it with his own eyes. The Phoenix Queen just healed a whore.


	2. Kingslayer

**AN** : Loras is in the Kingsguard in the books but not in this fic. I can't remember if he joined the Kingsguard in the show or not?

Also, only one chapter in and I was BLOWN AWAY by the faves, follows, and reviews. I honestly wasn't expecting anything until about five chapters in, so thank you very very much.

All the love!

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Magic? She couldn't possibly be magic. Could she? Loras bit at his lower lip running the scene over and over in his head. Aero had kissed the girl on the cheek and the girl's bruise had just disappeared. Perhaps she had given the girl some type of potion? Aero's hair had gotten in the way for a moment when she leaned in. That must be it, Loras rationalized. He didn't believe in magic. He didn't believe in much of anything except steel and glory.

"Pay attention!" growled the oldest of the ship's crewman. Pulled from his thoughts, Loras struggled to heave his share of the chest with Aero's belongings he was carrying into a cart. Loras would have much preferred to just hire some men to load the wagons for them. But when Aero had started to grab some of the chests by herself, he heaved a great sigh because he knew he would look like a spoiled, pampered prat if he didn't also help.

Loras curiously watched the queen hauling another trunk off of her ship with the youngest of her crewmen, laughing at something he was saying. It was easy to see that she had more than a typical relationship with the men. She didn't treat them as subordinates. Instead, she treated them as old friends and they would touch her as if it was nothing to them. When she was distracted talking to Margaery on the dock, one of the men casually tugged at her shoulder to pull her out of the way of a fisherman wheeling in his catch for the day. If a servant had dared do that to Loras, he would have been severely punished.

As it was, Aero had rented small wagons from one of the merchants in the marketplace along with two mules to pull them up the narrow city streets. She was a strange thing to watch, a crown on her head, a sword at her hip and she was lifting chests beside the crewmen. The only women he had ever seen do any sort of manual labor was servant women. But there she was, a queen towing her own belongings, chuckling at the vulgar language the men on her ship slung at each other as if they weren't in the presence of lords and ladies.

Aero's ship, Serenity, was exactly as she said. Ten men aging from twenty to fifty and the captain of the ship who looked to be in his early thirties manned the ship. They were stout men with muscle built from a life at sea rather than a life swinging swords though they all carried a cutlass at their hip except for one.

Loras' eyes wandered appreciatively over the youngest who carried two hook swords across his back. Eryatheians, for the most part, were similar in complexion to the Dornish with most of them featuring brown hair and brown eyes. The young crewman, named Evann, curiously had blond hair, deep tanned skin, and green eyes the color of jade. Loras also noted that Evann was at least half-a-head taller than the rest of the crewmen. What the names of the other men were, Loras couldn't say. He had forgotten them as soon as Aero had said them, though Margaery went through the courtesies of saying hello to each one.

To be so young, the captain had already started showing grey hair at his temples and in his close-cropped auburn beard. As Aero and Loras picked up the last chest of her things, the captain leaned against the deck railings and lit a pipe, eyeing Loras and his pretty sister suspiciously. He didn't trust his queen alone in this city, but she insisted she didn't want a guard. He had argued with her over it for the better part of a week, but the damn woman wouldn't give in.

"Evann!" the captain barked.

"Yes, sir?" the young man was at his side immediately.

"Go ashore with Aero and make sure she gets settled in. I don't care if she threatens to run you through with her sword, if she argues, tell her I told you to stick to her."

Evann gave him a mock salute "I was planning on it anyway, Cap. But I'm sure she'll be happy to know you're so quick to dismiss her orders." A slow smile slid up the side of his face.

"Count your stars you're not one of my crew, boy. I've had men keelhauled for less." The captain gave an easy laugh and pushed the young man just hard enough to cause him to stumble off balance. Evann chuckled good naturedly and sauntered down the gangway and onto the dock to stand beside the Lady Margaery. The captain looked across the deck. It wasn't his first time across the Sunset Sea, but it was his first time in King's Landing. About halfway through the Redwyne Straits, they hit a squall that caused some minor damage to the ship. It was nothing that he couldn't fix. He'd send the men inland for some supplies. At least the damn horse is gone, he thought. The massive mount had left barrel sized hoof-marks on his deck.

Evann had been so excited to see King's Landing, but now that he was here, he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. It wasn't what he expected at all. He had always heard stories of the Red Keep—how grand it was with its towers and its throne made from a thousand swords melted and melded with dragon's fire.

Evann had grown up in the Shimmering Stone, Eryatheia's largest castle and home of the Vysrane family for more than a thousand years. The towers and stone were carved from the white mountain upon which it sits. Eryatheia is rich in opal stones. A great amount of white opal was used in the design of the Shimmering Stone and when the sun hits the opal inlaid against the white stone, the entire castle shines. Perhaps it was his own bias, but the Red Keep looked nothing more than a stack of red brick to him. But then there were the dragon skulls rumored to be kept hidden somewhere in the castle; finding those would be a great adventure. As a child, the stories of the Targaryen kings and queens that tamed dragons were always his favorite.

"Will you be accompanying us back to the castle?" the Lady Margaery leaned in to ask. The scent of the oils she wore caught in the wind and enveloped him. He had never known a woman to smell as she did—like sweet perfumes and heaven. He thought about Aero and how she always smelled of flowers and fire.

"I will, my lady. Just until Aero is settled in. I won't stay in the castle."

"You and the others, you call your queen by her name?"

He shrugged. "She insists. And if one of us does slip up and call her Your Majesty or Your Grace, she gets this really sour look on her face like she's debating whether or not to throw something."

"Do you know her quite well?" Lady Margaery's mouth had a pleasing way of tilting up slightly on one side. Evann thought it made her seem as though she carried a wealth of secrets.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned casually against a pylon jutting up from the dock deck. "Very well, my lady. We've been friends for as long as I can remember. My family has always worked in the castle and my mother was the royal dressmaker for Aero's mother until she died."

"Your mother?" Margaery's hand moved to rest against her heart.

He shook his head. "Aero's mother. Queen Dinara. I don't remember it well; I was barely five. Aero was seven."

"And her father?"

"King Ixion never remarried. He dedicated himself entirely to his kingdom and his children. He tried to make Aero into a lady. That didn't last long. All she wanted to do was play swords, follow her brothers around, and haunt my father's forge in the castle. The king let her, in the end. She's too damn stubborn not to get her way eventually." Evann's eyebrows shot up, realizing he had just cursed in front of the highborn woman. "Oh! Sorry, my lady. I didn't mean to swear."

Margaery laughed and touched his arm reassuringly. "I'm not insulted. My grandmother's language is far worse. Why do you still call her father the king if Aero is queen?"

"It's… complicated," Evann said after a beat. He brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck in nervous habit. "Aero has been Queen Designate since she was blessed by the phoenix as a baby even though she has three older brothers. That's the law. But of course her mother and father would still need to rule until she came of age. When she came of age, she became the Queen Regent. Now King Ixion is more of a steward and a counselor for Aero; he takes over her duties when she is away and he is allowed to keep his title until he passes as it would have been if the throne had passed to the eldest son."

Margaery nodded, understanding though she still had questions she wanted to ask. She would get around to them eventually. Perhaps she would ask Aero when they could sneak away from prying ears. The queen was kinder than she expected, but also more fierce. Margaery longed to be the kind of woman that could protect herself. Cleverness and beauty were great weapons, but even they were hardly an advantage against the Lannister's violently cold glares.

Margaery and Evann stood in a comfortable silence for a time and watched Loras and Aero finish loading the wagons.

"You know," Loras huffed helping Aero shove the last of the trunks onto the wagon. We could have hired people to do this for us."

Aero brushed the dirt off of her hands and tilted her head to the side. "My men are paid to help, but that doesn't mean that I don't also do some of the work. A good leader leads by example."

Loras smiled and shook his head at the odd woman. "Queens don't carry boxes."

"Okay. Noted." She gave him a curt nod and turned away to walk back to the ship. Margaery was waiting at the dock with Evann.

Loras quickened his pace to catch up to her. "I'm sorry. Queen Aero, let me explain myself."

Aero stopped suddenly, tugging at Loras' arm to pull him in front of her. He was struck at how close she was to him—how tall she was and how her eyes, pale blue with flecks of gold, met his without blinking. "I'm not offended Ser Loras. I know that customs here are different. I know that women here are different. I know it makes others nervous when I shirk those customs." She smiled mischievously. "Otherwise what would be the point?"

He watched her as she walked away from him, cloak billowing behind her. Everything about her made him curious. Like everyone in King's Landing, he had heard rumors of the Phoenix Queen. The traders like to gossip. With ale on their breath, they would bellow about her sharp face and how her body looked like a man's but with tits. Loras thought this was rather unfair now that he was able to observe her. She was certainly more toned than any woman he had met. Even through the leather, he could see that her muscles, not abnormally large in any way, were strong and defined. She still had a nice curved form and her breasts were a nice size. Other men of Westeros would mock and jeer at how she seemed too much of a man. But that didn't stop them from admitting what they would do to her tight-as-a-bow-string body when they were deep in their cups. As if they would ever get that chance.

He watched as she said goodbye to her men, hugging them as she would a brother. One by one they embraced her, some of them with easy smiles, some of them with worried expressions. They cared deeply for their queen and the foundation for their unwavering loyalty was just another thing that had him fascinated.

They were halfway to the Red Keep, ascending Aegon's High Hill with the loaded wagons. Margaery's laugh carried up the narrow street. Her arm linked with Aero's as they ambled onward up the hill. The queen was easy to get along with, but even with the light conversation, Margaery could sense something that Aero was holding back. She seemed... guarded. Margaery could understand why—King's Landing was no place for an open heart.

"Do you sew?" Margaery questioned running her fingers across the feathered and elaborately embroidered cloak fasteners Aero wore at her shoulders. Behind them Evann let out a resounding 'Ha!' in response.

Aero chuckled at him. Evann knew her well enough that the idea of her trying to sew anything was laughable. She would more likely end up with the needle in her finger than in the fabric. "My matron tried to teach me, but I never was never particularly interested."

"Painting, then?" Margaery persisted.

Aero gave a shrug. "I've never tried."

"Do you play an instrument? Or weave? Garden?"

Aero smiled at the beautiful Lady Tyrell. "I'm terrible at all of those things, I'm afraid." She had missed out on the finer points of being a lady. It didn't help that all of those things also sounded incredibly boring and tedious to learn. "I like to read," Aero offered hoping to find a middle ground. "I write when the inspiration strikes. But mostly, I like to work in my forge."

Margaery looked at her, dumbfounded at the idea that anyone, let alone a queen, would actually want to work next to a furnace for hours at a time. "You work in a forge?"

"I don't work in the sense that I get paid, but yes. It is custom that Eryatheian rulers are trained in a trade of their choosing. It teaches respect for hard work and empathy for people that have to work to support their families. My father is a carpenter. I'm told my grandfather was a remarkable chef. And my great-grandfather was a mason. I chose to work with metals, though I suspect my father would have been more comfortable with me learning how to use a needle rather than a hammer."

Margaery continued to stare, still stunned, as Aero pulled on their linked arms to keep them both moving.

"Do you make weapons?" Loras asked from Margaery's right.

Aero nodded. "I do. I began apprenticing with Evann's father in the castle forge when I was about seven. He's Cylix's master blacksmith. Then, when it became clear that my interest was not going to change, my father sought out other notable blacksmiths in Eryatheia. Each one specialized in something different. I even spent three years learning jewelry making from a gold master. If I'm honest, another reason I wanted to come here was because I was hoping to find someone in King's Landing that knows how to work Valyrian steel."

"Tobho Mott!" Loras answered at once. "He's the best in King's Landing and not particularly modest about his accomplishments. When I was getting my tournament armor made, I remember him commenting that he was one of ten men left alive that knows how to work Valyrian steel."

"You're certain?" Aero asked brimming with excitement.

Loras nodded. "I'm certain that is what he said. If he was lying, I can't be sure."

"Where is his shop? Is it on the way?" Margaery's hand rested on the inside of Aero's elbow; distracted with excitement, Aero gripped Margaery's hand tightly. Margaery found the queen's eagerness endearing.

Loras scratched his chin, calculating the distance in his head. They were already almost to the Keep, if they made a detour to Mott's on foot, they would never make it back in time to dine with the Lannisters. "It's about half the city in the opposite direction. But I would be happy to escort you there tomorrow. It's getting late just now."

"Yes! Absolutely. I would very much appreciate it."

Margaery led Aero—who insisted on carrying at least a few of her own things—and more than a dozen of the castle's servants carrying the rest of the queen's belongings to her quarters. "The rooms along the rest of this corridor and the floor below were set aside for your company, but I suppose those are no longer necessary."

Aero set the small black chest she carried on a table and immediately went to the nearest window. The open archway led to a small balcony looking out toward Blackwater Bay. The warm sea breeze reminded her of her room back home in the Shimmering Stone. The room was larger than she expected and connected to a tower that also had windows opened to the west looking across the city.

"Is there anything else you'll be needing?" Margaery asked. She stood just inside the door, hands folded together in front of her. Aero thought Margaery was quite beautiful—a waste that she was marrying King Joffrey who, by all accounts, was a shitty king and an even shittier person.

"No. Thank you. I appreciate your company today. And please tell Loras that his company was cherished as well." Loras had gone with the servants, no doubt to prepare for dinner also.

Margaery smiled sweetly and began to back away, out into the hall. "I will tell him. Dinner is typically served at sundown. Someone should be up to escort you before then." Margaery closed the door softly behind her and Aero let out the breath she was holding for what felt like hours. She took a moment to unfasten the cloak from her shoulders and removed her sword and its scabbard from the belt at her waist.

"Nice comfy beds, these," Evann called from where he had thrown himself down onto what Aero was sure would be a soft feather mattress.

"Changed your mind about staying in the castle, then?" she called back setting her sword on the table next to the small black chest.

"Maybe I'll just take the mattress with me when I go. They won't notice that, right? One of the Eryatheians looting the bedding."

She rolled her eyes at her best friend and ran to join him, launching herself in the air and landed beside him across the bed. They laughed until their sides hurt and it occurred to Aero that she couldn't be more grateful that Evann had wanted to come with her to Westeros. Knowing that she had an unwavering ally in a strange land comforted her more than he would ever know.

When the laughing had died down, they lay there with content smiles on their faces, enjoying the moment before he had to leave and she had to begin dressing for dinner. Her eyes were closed, but she felt Evann slip his hand into hers, fingers linking together. She smiled softly. To anyone else, their relationship seemed like it was more than friendly. When her mother died, he would sneak into her room, hold her and let her cry even if he was younger and didn't quite understand why she was sad.

His mother, Melaena, had tried separating them after a while. She was worried what King Ixion would say about his daughter, the queen, having a dressmaker's son for a friend, but even at ten years old, Aero stomped her way into his study, looked her father in the eye and told him she was going to be friends with whomever she wanted and there was nothing he could do to stop her. She stomped back out leaving a quite surprised King Ixion speechless. At her coronation on her 16th birthday, her father kissed her forehead and told her that was the moment he knew she was going to be a great queen.

As they grew older, their friendship never wavered. Responsibilities took over where they once had free time to run and play. She would attend her daily lessons with her tutors, and sit in on everyday meetings with her father's councilors—matters that needed his attention. But in the afternoons, she ran free from the indoors and out into the sunlight to find Evann. Where she loved the sky, he loved the earth. He began apprenticing as a landscaper in the Shimmering Stone's gardens when he was old enough. She would kneel beside him, pulling weeds and he would laugh when she would brush the hair out of her eyes and get dirt on her face. Then they would race to the practice yard to spar with her brothers. After dinner, she went to work in the castle forge with Evann's father. Evann would sit and read by the light of the hearth.

Older still, Evann stood among lords, ladies, and foreign royalty to watch his best friend crowned queen of Eryatheia. Even when her time was no longer hers, she made time for him. On rough days when he knew she hadn't eaten anything, he would steal food from the kitchens and barge into her room to demand a picnic in her sunroom. And then there was a month when he had been so sick he could barely get out of bed. She brought him to her room and put all of her obligations on hold to take care of him, daring anyone to bring up the impropriety of having a man in her bed. At night when he would shake with a cold fever, she would let him rest his sweaty head in her lap and she would read to him, terrified that he wouldn't survive the night.

Their friendship was easy and unconditional and one of the very few things she was every truly sure of. But they would never be lovers. There were awkward moments when he would become aroused around her as they entered puberty. He would burst into her room on occasions and she would be naked or nearly so. And she would happen upon him pleasuring himself every so often. Innocent moments of genuine curiosity where she would ask him about what he does with his girlfriends. He answered her truthfully. She thought to ask him one day if he was attracted to her. He replied that she was attractive, but the idea of having sex with her made him a little nauseated. She had laughed and hit him with a wooden mallet. He loved her as he had never loved anyone—not with passion, but with fierce loyalty and absolute trust.

He pulled their joined hands up to his chest and let them rest there, rising and falling with his breathing. "I don't want anything to happen to you," he said in a serious tone that she had only ever heard on a few occasions in the years she had known him.

"Nothing is going to happen to me," she huffed, annoyed. They had already had this conversation.

Her eyes were still closed, but she felt Evann release her hand and move toward her. When she opened her eyes, he had turned on his side and had propped himself up on his shoulder looking down at her. He shook his head. "You don't know that. There's no way you could know that."

She moved to prop herself up with her elbows behind her. "Yes I do. I can take care of myself."

He huffed back at her and slid off the bed so he could pace. She knew he only did that when he was nervous. She pulled herself out of the sinfully soft mattress and moved to stand in front of him. His jade eyes narrowed at her almost angrily but he melted when she stepped in to wrap her arms around his waist and press her forehead against his cheek. He was slightly taller and let his arms come around her shoulders.

"Just promise me you'll watch your back," he sighed. "I don't trust any of these people."

"I promise. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

He cupped the back of her neck in his hand and kissed her forehead before he left. After he had gone, she had never felt more alone but she wouldn't call him back. The sun was slowly sinking in sky and it wouldn't be long before someone came to escort her down to dinner.

Though she didn't have time to bathe, there was a basin filled with fresh water and clean towels lay beside it. She stripped the leathers off of her, the cotton lining on the inside let the leather breathe enough that it was never too hot even in the Eryatheian sun. King's Landing was warmer than she expected, though still cooler than Cylix. Especially as it neared sunset. A breeze wafted in from across the bay sending a chill over her as she rinsed her body with a wet cloth. Feeling clean enough, she dabbed the oil of the blood lily from her land just behind her ears and rummaged in the chests to find a dress to wear for dinner.

"I've come to escort you to dinner, Your Grace." Jaime knocked on the queen's door and entered. Aero was sitting at her vanity table working at her long hair in the reflective glass mirror. She smiled at him as he entered and with one last look in the glass, she stood to greet him.

"Ser Jaime, please call me Aero." Gone were the layers of leather and the long cape. Instead, she wore a long lace dress that very closely matched the color of her dark honey skin. The long sleeves and neckline were conservative, but the tight fit and no backing was certainly not Westerosi style. She had styled her hair in loose curls that draped over her shoulders and down her back. Her sword was strapped to her left hip, as always, though she traded her black leather belt for a more ornate belt decorated with the same kind of onyx and obsidian shards used to make the wings on the helm she had worn earlier.

Jaime noted that aside from the circlet crown she wore and a couple of small rings, she wore no other jewelry. Cersei would be certain to lavish herself in her most expensive jewels, he thought. If only to make the young queen feel insignificant.

Though her choice of attire was certain to get narrowed glares from Cersei, Aero couldn't bring herself to care. Growing up as she did, the youngest child with three older brothers and no mother, she liked swords and horses and sport. But beautiful dresses made her feel beautiful and after a long day of sweating and swearing, it was nice to put on a dress and feel feminine. Her brothers made fun of her when she liked to dress up. It was Evann's mother who looked after her when her mother had passed. 'If you feel beautiful, you are beautiful,' she always said.

It was at times like these when her deepest insecurities—her lack of femininity being chief among them—made her stomach clench into knots. She felt most comfortable and most at home wearing trousers and men's shirts, but dresses, despite being horrendously difficult to fight in, were elegant in a way she felt like she wasn't most of the time. Her muscles, height, and proclivity for fighting set her apart from the other women. It had taken her a long time to become comfortable in her own skin and accept that she would never fit the definition of the lithe, pale, domestic Ladies of her court that men fawn over.

She picked up the small black chest from the table and tucked it under her arm to rest at her hip. Jaime offered his arm to her and she took it, resting her hand just below his bicep. They walked silently for a time; the guest quarters were farther away from the king's dining hall than she expected. She had been told that Jaime had recently lost his sword hand, but even so, he still had an air of dignity and respect about him. He was quiet for a time, and Aero was content to wait until he felt the need to fill the silence. 'Let them talk,' her councilors had advised her. 'Take note of the questions they ask and what they are interested in.'

"Your people call you Aero the Blessed…" Jaime finally broke the silence as they turned a bend to another hallway. She had the feeling he was taking her on a longer path than was necessary.

Aero nodded. "They do."

"What does that mean?" he asked. "…to be blessed?"

"The legend of the phoenix is older than my family. During the Shadow War, Helius Vysrane, my great grandfather by seventy-five times and the last surviving son of a broken house, climbed the great volcano Duunas to ask the god of fire to grant him light in the darkness. Near the peak, he stumbled upon an odyssey of phoenixes nesting within a cave system in the mountain. He walked through the caves, curious. No one had seen a phoenix in his lifetime or the one before."

"I thought phoenixes flew freely in your land," he interrupted.

"They do now. But only because Helius made it punishable by death to kill one."

Jaime nodded and allowed her to continue. "Helius didn't know that a phoenix could bless a human, but he stayed with them for days, sleeping on the damp cave floors. One morning, Helius was surprised to wake up and find that in the night a phoenix had flown down from its perch to rest its head on his chest. He was more surprised when the phoenix suddenly burst into flames."

She looked up at Jaime and squeezed his arm. "That's how it happens. Each new royal baby is taken to the phoenix caves in hopes of being blessed. But for a phoenix to bless someone is extremely rare because in order to bless a child, the phoenix must give up its own life. When a child is presented and a phoenix chooses to bless it, the phoenix will fly down and lay its head across the child's heart and die. It will burst into flames, but the flames do not harm the child. This is the only time that a phoenix is not reborn from its ashes; it is truly dead. The symbol of the Blessed Ones is a type of birthmark in the shape of a single feather that appears when the phoenix burns." She sighed. "But with me, it was different."

"How was it different?"

"It's different because I was blessed by the ivory phoenix. As far back as the legends go, the ivory phoenix has always been the alpha. It's never happened before. And instead of a feather…" she paused and let go of his arm so that she could turn her back to him. She pulled her long black hair to the side and he was surprised to see the thin whorls just beneath her skin—only a few shades paler than her natural color. They looked like scars but were too exact and too beautiful to be made with a blade. The lines twisted and flowed, weaving in and out from the fabric of her dress like a labyrinth that didn't seem to have a beginning or an end. He felt a pull to reach out and run his fingers across the lines to see if they would ripple under his touch, but he refrained.

"And the marks, are they…"His eyes wandered down her body. He wanted to ask if they covered her entire body. What a sight that must be.

"Everywhere?" she finished for him quirking an eyebrow and letting her hair fall back into place. Jaime nodded. "They're faded in places." She pulled back one of her dress sleeves from her wrist to show him how the marks became faded on her forearm and disappeared entirely as they stretched toward her hand. "Hands, feet, and neck, but everywhere else…" She let her sentence trail off, certain he would understand without embarrassing them both. Her marks were yet another thing that made her feel self-conscious growing up. Now she accepted them as a part of her as one would a rather large birthmark.

She took his arm again and he carried on, taking her deeper within the castle.

"Why is it special to be blessed?" he asked as they passed rows of torches. "Is it just a title?"

Aero scrunched up her nose, thinking. "There are… advantages to being blessed—gifts that the phoenix gives to the blessed ones, as to what kind of gifts, I'm not certain I'd like to share that just yet. But it's also special because, as I said, it doesn't happen very often. The last Vysrane to be blessed was my ancestor Luthor four hundred years ago. Only a handful of have ever been blessed—six over a period of two thousand years."

"Are they all titled as Blessed Ones?"

"All of the Blessed Ones start out as 'the Blessed' as a sign of respect. They are given their historical title during their rule. Helius was called Helius the Undaunted. He became the patriarch of the Vysrane family and took the phoenix as our sigil. Then there was Vylencia the Brave. The stories say that she rode bare breasted into battle and slew her enemies with a mighty war scythe. Laurent the Large openly accepted men and women into his chambers. He accidentally bedded the wife of a visiting prince thinking that she was a man. Bereck the Odious was a great warrior, but he was terrified of water." Jaime snickered. "And Luthor the Lethal is said to have killed as many as 600 men in his lifetime. My father is called Ixion the Devoted. When my mother passed, he refused to marry again. He committed his time to our country and our family." She paused for a moment. "The future will ultimately decide the title my people give me—my actions, my deeds… if I am a good ruler."

Jaime dipped his head, his blond hair falling in front of his face. "They call me the Kingslayer," he said softly.

Aero had heard the story of Jaime Lannister slaying the Dragon King many times. It was one her father told often. Though her father had used the parable as a warning, she thought that it took a brave man to stand up to a mad king. "You killed Aerys Targaryen."

He gave a great sigh. "I've killed many men. In battle. In the streets. In these halls. Out of fear. Out of duty. Out of pride. Out of anger." He looked straight ahead, a snarl on his lips.

"What do you have to show for it?"

"A lesser man than I had hoped to be." He lifted his golden hand. Aero said nothing. "Have you killed?" he asked her after a few moments.

She nodded once and cast her eyes at her feet. As a ruler, taking a life was a necessary evil. "I have. More than I'd like."

"Do you remember your first?" he questioned, remembering the first time he killed a man. He was sixteen and still a squire eager to prove himself. He cut the head off of an outlaw before the man knew what was happening.

"I was in the kitchens of my home," Aero recalled. "A man had sneaked past the guards to steal food but decided that he wanted the cook's daughter instead. He was raping her when I cut his throat with the knife she had been using to peel potatoes. The blade was dull. I had to press hard into his neck for it to cut the skin. The girl ran away, but I stayed and watched the blood drain out of him. I watched his face turn white as his warm blood pooled around my bare feet."

Jaime shook his head. "Nine is too young."

They turned another bend and she could smell the food coming from just ahead. "My father found me. He heard the screams and he thought it was me. The look on his face—he was terrified. I remember him grabbing me, not caring that I was covered in another man's blood, and he cried. He cried and held me until my brothers came to take me to get cleaned up." Her gut clenched remembering her father's sobs. Jaime couldn't help but stare at her. Nine was much too young. "I stopped being a child that day. I dedicated myself to studying weapons. I poured every ounce of energy I had into training and learning to protect myself, to protect my family and my people."

"Killing is not the same as protecting."

"Sometimes it is. If I'm being truthful, I don't even remember deciding to kill the man. I heard the screams, saw the knife, and just knew that the world would be a better place without him in it. I took the life of a rapist to save an innocent girl. It's not complicated. I know the words the Mad King was shouting before you put a sword to him. You killed a king to save a kingdom. It seems fair enough to me." She shrugged.

He didn't ask how she knew the words the Aerys Targaryen recited over and over like a prayer. Burn them all. Burn them all. Burn them all. He remembered all those years ago thinking how easily his sword slid into the king's back and the guttural cough as red poured from the king's mouth. Burn them all.

"Do you think that people can change who they are?" Jaime asked.

Jaime Lannister didn't seem like a man that would show his emotions easily, particularly not a stranger, but in that moment Aero thought he looked so lost. Like he was caught between expectations and a reality he didn't want. She knew the feeling all too well.

"Yes," she said, earnestly. "Things happen to us—within us. If we don't grow and learn and change, we stand still. Some people change for the better and some for the worse."

Changing wasn't a concept Jaime was all that familiar with. He had known his duty at a young age and even if he defied his father to join the Kingsguard, he always knew his purpose. But now, now he passed every day cursing his hand, cursing Cersei and cursing himself. Brienne sprang into his mind and he contemplated their unlikely friendship. In his heart, he knew he had changed. He just hoped it was for the better.

The hallway passed behind them as they entered the small dining hall. They were the last to arrive.

* * *

I would LOVE to hear your thoughts. If not, that's cool. Enjoy. :)

xo N


	3. The Gift

Jaime stood away from the others, the smell of the suckling pig making his stomach growl. As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he wasn't allowed to eat with his family at formal dinners when it was his duty to protect the king. He watched as they sat around the small but formidable dining table carrying on various conversations. Joffrey was seated at the head of the table and Aero had the honor of sitting opposite him. I'm sure she did think it was an honor to be away from the lecher. Cersei must have thought it would be a slight to sit the queen with Tyrion on her right and Loras on her left, but she looked as though she wasn't offended in the least. She and Tyrion were discussing Eryatheian wines and ales.

Throughout, it seemed Aero was happier sitting with his dwarf brother, laughing at what was sure to be some sarcastic quip or obscene witticism. She spoke kindly to Sansa who was seated at Tyrion's right, and shamelessly flirted with Loras. Young Tommen created a buffer between Cersei and Loras. He would lean in from time to time, asking questions about the types of animals Eryatheia had and expressing his fondness for cats. "We have cats as well," she told him. "Giant, fat cats that like to roam around the castle and chase the birds!" He giggled delightedly.

Lord Tywin had taken the seat to Joffrey's right, next to his daughter. Cersei sat quietly, being talked at by Mace Tyrell sitting across from her. Mace Tyrell was one of the most insufferable bores in all of the Seven Kingdoms and while Cersei smiled politely, Jaime could tell his sister was brooding—not that she tried all that hard to hide it. She ignored the slices of pork on her plate and instead held up her glass for the servants to bring her more wine. She sat back in her chair drinking from the silver chalice and observed the people around her.

Jaime observed them as well. He took his duties more seriously now that he had lost his hand. He took his time looking over the party. Tyrion's face was red from wine, but his speech was still quick and clever. The always miserable Sansa pushed the food around on her plate, but did look up at the young queen from time to time. Aero made sure to include her in conversations. Mace Tyrell sat at Sansa's right and his great bulk caused him to dribble soup onto his expensive silk tunic. Margaery was speaking with Joffrey and Tywin about the tournaments that the crown would be hosting leading up to the wedding. Joffrey promised his wife-to-be that there would be a great deal of bloodshed. At Tywin's right, Cersei fussed with Tommen's hair and Tommen was attempting to push her hand away. Loras Tyrell was a privileged young lord that sought glory for his name and cared about little else. But at the moment, he had caught the attention of the young queen with a thrilling tale about how he had his first kill at a sword tourney. Jaime wondered if Aero would share the story of her first kill with the proud young knight as she had with him.

Moving a step to the right gave Jaime a clear view of Aero. The desserts were now being served and as one of the servants cleared her main course to set down a plate of rich berry pies, she smiled up at the boy and thanked him. Never having been thanked a day in his life, the boy sucked in his breath and nodded with wide eyes at the queen. It was small things like this that made Jaime watch her. Loras had taken him aside when they had all gotten back to the keep and told him everything—from how many men Aero had on her ship, her close relationship with the boy Loras called Evann, carrying her own chests, to healing one of Littlefinger's whores. The Tyrell had gone back and forth about how the girl had actually been healed, but one phrase resounded in Jaime's head. "It was like magic," Loras had said.

When Jaime asked Varys about the Eryatheian queen, Varys had told him much the same thing as Loras had. Varys briefed them before the queen had arrived. "She is a force," he had said. Varys gave them details like her beauty, her family, and her proficiency with a sword. Jaime's eyes narrowed as he remembered her recalling her first kill. The lords of Westeros mocked her, believing that her sword was just for show. He suspected that should she raise her sword against them, they would be unable to change their mind as they would no longer have a head. The thought amused him greatly.

Varys hadn't mentioned that Aero traveled without a Queensguard. And when Cersei had asked for more information, Varys sighed and said that many of the traders he talked to were more than a little tight lipped when it came to the Eryatheian queen. Even when bribed. "But there's one more thing," Varys had announced. "According to the few sources I have been able to gather, they all say that there is a buzz in Eryatheia about the queen being able to use magic." Cersei naturally laughed it off. She dismissed it as propaganda and refused to entertain the idea.

 _'But even so…'_ Jaime wondered. Being blessed by a phoenix has never been heard of in Westeros. Perhaps it could be true. The traders he had questioned certainly believed it. He watched Aero cut the pie with her fork and take a bite, reveling in the sweetness. Her bright eyes were always searching. Always inquisitive. She had a small, straight nose and a small mouth. He caught himself staring at her lips—her cupid's bow arched perfectly and her bottom lip plumped slightly larger than the top lip. He looked away quickly before his staring was noticed. His gaze flitted over to where Cersei was frowning at him. It would seem that his staring hadn't gone completely unnoticed.

"King Joffrey!" Aero pushed back from the table and stood. "Your family has been most welcoming, and I would very much like to repay that kindness." Joffrey sat back in his chair and looked on as Aero pulled a black chest roughly the size of a small cask from where she had tucked it under the table at her feet. It thunked softly against the tablecloth when she set it down. Jaime had to admit. He was curious as the others that sat upright in their seats to get a better look. From his position, Jaime could see swaths of fabric resting inside the black velvet lined chest.

"I have gifts," she proclaimed, opening the lid.

"Gifts?" Joffrey asked. He leaned forward in his seat. The chest was formidable, but rather small to hold anything that he might find interesting. "From your homeland?"

Aero smiled at Joffrey as one would smile at a child asking too many annoying questions. "Some are. Some are not."

"The first is for Lord Mace Tyrell." Aero pulled from the black box a small ball of green fabric. "I believe you met my father years ago, Lord Mace."

Lord Tyrell nodded and laughed so that his belly shook in front of him. "I did. Nice fellow. Terrible card player."

"He says much the same about you," Aero laughed politely. "You lost something in a bet with my father." Aero rounded the table and unwrapped the green fabric to present to the man a rather large signet ring made of gold. It was clearly very old and very valuable with a single golden rose on its face.

Lord Mace stared at it and took it from her gently. He slid the large ring easily onto his equally large finger and held it out in front of him. "This belonged to Harlen Tyrell, the first Tyrell Lord of Highgarden." He looked up at Aero. "Your father won it from me in a very poor bet on my part. Thank you." Aero nodded and returned to the chest as Lord Mace adoringly twisted his ring around his finger so that the gold would catch the firelight.

Aero held a solemn expression as she picked up the next fabric covered gift. She went left this time and planted what appeared to be something heavy wrapped in thick scarlet fabrics in front of Jaime's father.

"For The Hand, Tywin Lannister." Jaime could now see that the fabric she was unfolding in front of his father was actually an old scarlet cloak, ragged with age and wear. Folded inside of it were the remnants of a shattered sword and a large golden hilt encrusted with rubies and engraved with snarling lions.

"In our histories, it is written that the Grey Lion and his company of four hundred men entered Eryatheia with the intention of trading. When they arrived in port, they drew their swords and attempted to take the city by surprise. They were unsuccessful." Aero stopped to take a breath and Tywin looked up at her with emotionless eyes. "When our ancestors met in the streets of Cylix, there was a mighty clash. The Grey Lion was overtaken by my great-great-grandfather, Dorian the Vanquisher. The lion's sword, Sharp Tooth, was shattered. Though his plan failed, he fought with honor, and to my people, there is no greater quality. His life was spared, but his cloak and his broken sword were taken from him. In friendship, I present to you the broken sword and cloak of your great-grandfather Damon Lannister, the Grey Lion."

Tywin took a moment to look down at the broken sword in front of him. He ran a finger over one of the shards and pulled back when it sliced his finger. It was still sharp. Never being one to show emotion unless it was anger, Tywin merely nodded and thanked Aero for her gift. She nodded in return knowing that this was the most lively reaction she would get from the Lannister.

"For Cersei Lannister, Queen Dowager," Aero continued. "I explained earlier to Ser Loras and Lady Margaery that it is customary for Eryatheian rulers to learn a trade. Because I trained in weaponry like my brothers, I developed an interest in metalworks. The strength needed to forge blades and the care and patience involved in the making of delicate jewelry intrigued me. "

From the box, Aero pulled a small swath of black satin no bigger than the palm of her hand. "I give to you a necklace of my own design and make." She presented the wrapped gift to Cersei with an open hand and the Queen Dowager took it, face as emotionless as her father's. As she unfolded the fabric, Cersei saw that the necklace composed of thin wisps of gold designed to look like vines woven in and out in a pattern no more than two fingers wide. It started out thin and swelled gracefully just where the necklace would hit the collarbone and culminated in a deep V formation that featured a single emerald held in place with what looked like two lions paws on either side. It was the most beautiful thing Cersei had ever seen and while she had many beautiful things, it angered her that something she would value was given to her by someone she hated. It made her hate the young queen even more.

Cersei had learned how to fake a smile before she had learned to walk. "It is very beautiful. Thank you." Like Tywin, Aero knew that she should not expect a reaction from Cersei, but it gave her a smug sense of satisfaction to see the woman's brief expression of power-lust and greed at opening the necklace. That would have to do.

"For the future queen, Margaery." Aero smiled genuinely at the young Lady Tyrell. She did not trust the young woman, but her company was never boring. "I knew from a very young age that women are not merely for decoration. I learned to fight, ride, and use a sword the same as my brothers." Aero pulled from the chest a thin object wrapped in light blue fabric embroidered with golden flowers to give to Margaery. Margaery pulled the fabric back to reveal a slim dagger. Small. Delicate. Dangerous. The shallow rounded hilt was made with chords of yellow and white gold intertwining softly just big enough to fit the palm of a woman's hand. The sheath was solid white with vines of yellow gold heavy where the hilt met the sheath became less as they extended down the casing. Margaery pulled the hilt away from the sheath to examine the blade. The blade, was steel the color of milk and so smooth it looked like porcelain.

"I made this dagger special," Aero explained. "Spells are inlaid into the steel to make it so that it is unbreakable and will never need sharpening. The coloring is an unexpected result from the spelling process, but a welcome mistake. Knowing your kindness, the sheath also holds special healing properties. If you fill the sheath with water and pour it over any nonfatal wound, it will heal the cut."

Margaery looked up at the young queen with an expression of wonderment. Never by her knowledge had anyone been given a magical gift in Westeros. And if there were any, they were hidden away to be kept safe. "You have spell casters in your kingdom?" The Lady asked.

Aero smiled slightly as she returned to the chest. "Only one, my lady."

She looked to her right to see Lord Tyrion, stunted in his seat next to his tall wife. He seemed not to notice or care that the servants always moved his glass farther away from him when they refilled his wine. Aero supposed it must be a game they play to keep themselves amused.

"For you," Aero smiled at the dwarf. She pulled a large bunch of black woolen fabric from the bottom of the chest and handed it to Tyrion who weighted it in his hands.

"Is it another dagger?" he asked, still sharp and clever despite his many cups of wine. "I do so love daggers! Oh, tell me it's not a book." He made a sour face that made Aero laugh and throw her head back.

"I'm afraid it is not a book or a dagger," she chuckled. "Though, I could make a dagger for you, if it pleases you."

"No, young queen, I thank you. If I were in need of a dagger, I would only need to pull one from my back." He lifted his wine and emptied the glass.

Aero smirked. "With that tongue of yours, I'm surprised you hadn't been killed long ago."

"Not for lack of trying. For a man so slow, I'm not as easily killed as you would expect."

"Perhaps you haven't insulted the right people. When you do, I hope you find this useful." Aero took the fabric from his hands and in a swift motion, unfurled it, and handed it back to Tyrion to examine.

As a servant came to fill Tyrion's wine glass, she noticed that again the servant placed it just out of Tyrion's reach. Aero reached across the table and pushed it back within reach, making sure to hold eye contact with the servant as she did so. Frightened, the serving girl ducked her head and went back to stand at the wall with the others. It was an act that went unnoticed by Tyrion, but fully noticed by the others in the room. Aero was doubtful anyone else had even suspected the servants' game with Tyrion before now. _'Such a man did not deserve such a pernicious sister and indifferent father,'_ Aero thought.

"Does it make me invisible?" Tyrion asked, still very much unaware that anything unusual had transpired. "I'd love to see that. Or would I be unable to see myself?"

"Not invisible. More like…" Aero paused a moment to consider her choice of words. "Imperceptible. When you don this cloak, you will still be visible, but people's glances will wander over you without recognizing what they have seen, even if they are looking for you. I'm told that it's one of the more interesting spells to have been placed on an object."

"You don't say…" Tyrion ran a hand over the soft fabric. The queen had given him a gift more precious than all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms.

"A cloak that you can hide in, uncle! Truly a great gift for a coward! A funny joke, indeed, Aero. Well done!" Joffrey laughed cruelly.

Aero ignored Joffrey and studied the dwarf with his mismatched eyes. She knew a secret that could save him.

"Tell me, uncle, is the cloak cut short so that you won't be tripping over the hem? Go on, put it on! Let's see if the tailors got the length right!" He laughed again and finished his wine, snapping at one of the servants for more.

Joffrey's cruel remarks sickened her to her very core. She had never known a family to be so broken as the Lannisters. "I have another gift for you, Lord Tyrion." She bent down to lean in close to his ear and whispered so that no others could hear. "Tywin Lannister is not your father."

Tyrion stared at her in disbelief. It was something he had wished in his deepest of hearts, but something he dare not believed. He was a Lannister, though his father never treated him as such. Wasn't he?

Aero leaned back and nodded, reaffirming what she said was true. "On the honor of my house, I swear that what I say is true."

In that moment, he trusted her. Somehow, he could feel the truth emanating from her and he just knew that she was real. A rush of emotions ran through Tyrion and a sob escaped from his mouth before he could think better of it. It was a sob of relief and joy. Tyrion leaned back and breathed an audible sigh of relief and blinked back tears before he composed himself. The young queen's face that had been set in seriousness broke into a smile. He was wrong. This gift was, to him, worth more than all the gold in the world. He smiled to himself, the weight of his father's disappointment that he had carried for so long lifted from him as if he had lived his entire life in the dark and was suddenly shown the light.

"Sansa Stark." Aero's attention turned from Tyrion to the auburn haired beauty next to him. Still a girl, Sansa had been caught up in this world of deceit and lies for far too long. Aero opened the small swath of grey wool she pulled from the black chest and held up a simple silver chain that held a single teardrop diamond pendant.

Cersei smirked noting that it was far less exquisite than her own. The eldest Stark daughter looked almost broken, Aero thought. So many broken people to keep a kingdom together. Sansa wore her courtesies like armor. She was ever the definition of a lady. And she deserved so much more. "It is not as elegant as Cersei's, but it is not meant to be." Aero rounded behind Sansa to drape the necklace over her head. Sansa pulled her long coppery hair to the side to allow Aero to fasten the clasp at the nape of her neck.

"It's beautiful, Your Grace. I will cherish it always." Sansa politely accepted the gift as a lady would. Sansa felt a pulse of heat radiate from where the stone rested over her heart, but it faded just as quickly as it began.

Aero took one of Sansa's hands in hers and knelt beside her. "I want you to understand, Sansa. It is silver. Not gold. Not even white gold. You are a Stark. Gold fades in the Northern sun, but silver shines bright. Gold is malleable and easily bent, scratched, and destroyed, but silver is strong and it will hold tight long after gold has been reforged into something new. And just as Margaery's dagger has special properties, so does your necklace. As long as you are wearing it, you cannot be harmed."

Sansa looked down at her necklace and back up at Aero, confused. "Cannot be harmed? How?"

Aero ran her fingers through Sansa's beautiful hair wishing she could do more for the girl. "The necklace is charmed with wards that protect you. If someone seeks to strike you with a sword, the blow will glance away. An arrow will never hit you. The strongest poison will not harm you. It will not, unfortunately, protect you from emotional cruelty." Aero had to use all of her will power to keep from glancing at Joffrey as she explained. "But as long as you wear this, no person can physically harm you."

"The necklace also cannot be taken from you or broken," she continued. "You may chose to take it off, but the necklace can feel your emotions and it will not allow you to remove it if you are scared, anxious, or forced in any way."

"How can a necklace feel?" Sansa pulled the silver away from her neck, letting the thin silver chain slither between her fingers.

Aero pulled at the teardrop diamond to show Sansa. "It is the diamond that feels. It has energy in it the same as a heartbeat. The magic that goes into creating the wards to keep you safe gives it life."

"And what do you have for the king?" asked Joffrey, growing impatient.

Aero stood and pressed a kiss to the top of Sansa's copper hair resisting the urge to sigh at Joffrey.

"To you, King Joffrey, I give a wish." She approached Joffrey at the head of the table without first reaching into the chest where the rest of the gifts had been retrieved. He looked at her curiously as she held up her left hand and pulled a single golden band lined with black onyx stones from her center finger.

"A wish?" he asked suspiciously as he extended his arm to take the ring she offered. He inspected it, turning it over in his fingers. It looked like a normal ring to him.

She nodded. "A wish. Any wish. As long it is made with pure intentions, the ring will grant you any _single_ wish."

"What do you mean by pure intentions?"

"I mean that magic was not created or given to humans from a desire to do bad things. In order for the ring to work, the wish you make must be out of a desire to do good. If you make a wish out of vengeance or with selfish intentions, the ring will disintegrate and fall off. And bear in mind, you only have one wish. If you carry this ring your entire life, it can only be used once."

"One wish. Anything I choose? I will think on this. Your gift is greatly appreciated. I thank you, Queen Aero. Truly, you are generous and kind." In that moment, just for a moment, it was easy to forget that Joffrey was a monster—how manners and civility can hide someone's true self. It was a lesson Aero was still learning.

"And Tommen, not to be left out." She turned to Cersei's youngest child and he gave her a toothy smile. He hoped he would also get a present, but didn't want to seem greedy. She pulled a second ring from her finger—an unadorned golden band and placed it in his open palm.

"Do I get a wish, too?" he asked, turning it over in his fingers.

Aero knelt down in front of him to take the ring and slide it onto his middle finger. She smiled sweetly at him thinking just how unlike his brother he was. "Actually, this ring is very different. It lets you know when someone is lying to you. Like…" Aero scrunched up her nose trying to think of a lie. "I have a blue baboon for a pet at home in Cylix."

Tommen looked down at the ring, surprised. "It turned cold!"

Aero laughed at his surprise. "That's what it's supposed to do. I lied. I don't actually have blue baboon. And now for a truth. When I was your age, I would put pepper spices in my brothers' dinner and pretend that they were lying when they said their food was too hot." Tommen laughed and held up his hand.

"It's warm now," he said excitedly.

"Cold if someone is lying to you and warm if they are telling the truth. I know it's not nearly as interesting as a dagger or a wishing ring, but you will have plenty of people that will try to lie to you as you grow older. There will be others that try to take advantage of you. Don't let them." Aero winked at him and stood up to close the now empty chest.

Jaime was slightly disappointed that she had closed the chest without a gift for him. He hadn't expected anything. But he had hoped that she had thought enough of him to give him a gift as well. Not that she should, truthfully. They had only just met for the first time that day and his first conversation with her was merely two hours ago. There's no reason that she should have thought of him before she left Eryatheia. Though he did find a little satisfaction in the knowledge that such an insatiable flirt as Ser Loras hadn't received a gift either.

"Ser Loras, I would give something to you as well," Aero expressed to the young Lord.

 _'Well, damn,_ ' Jaime thought.

"Me, Your Grace?" Ser Loras asked with false astonishment. Then he saw the way she narrowed her eyes at his use of 'Your Grace' and he quickly corrected himself. "Aero. Sorry."

Aero crossed her arms below her breasts and leaned casually against the edge of the table. "Future goodbrother to the king, you have no need for pretty baubles or deadly blades as I hear you are one of the best fighters in the Seven Kingdoms. You have the finest armor money can buy. And you as handsome as any man I have seen."

Jaime rolled his eyes and Loras had enough decency to blush. "That is very kind of you to say."

"You don't value things. You value glory," Aero went on. "What can I give you that a lord of Highgarden cannot obtain for himself? If you were to ask anything of me, anything at all, what would it be?"

Ser Loras narrowed his eyebrows in concentration, thinking. "Nothing," he finally decided on.

"Nothing?" she asked, doubtfully.

Ser Loras gave her a smirk that seemed to come standard in Highgarden. "Nothing but your friendship."

She laughed. "You have my friendship, Ser Loras." Like his sister, Aero didn't fully trust Ser Loras. But his company was never without amusement.

"Then, perhaps a kiss?" he suggested. Loras dipped his head only to look back at the young queen, seduction dancing in his eyes. "If a simple lord of Highgarden were to request a kiss from the Queen of Eryatheia?"

She laughed again. "Perhaps. We shall see."

Resigned to being forgotten and half disgusted with Ser Loras, Jaime looked away. Watching the young knight flirt with every woman he met grew tiresome much too quickly. Jaime thought that Loras might have had the good sense to hold his tongue in the presence of the visiting queen, but it seems that was being too hopeful.

"Ser Jaime, it would humor me if you told me what they say about me in Westeros." Aero's voice brought him out of his thoughts and back into the small dining hall.

"Your Grace?" he asked, unsure.

She shrugged and pushed away from where she was leaning on the edge of the table. She shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms underneath her breasts again. "Good or bad, I'm not particularly picky."

Jaime scoured his memory for anything more that he could remember Varys saying. It was difficult when he paid so little attention to the spider. He shifted his stance to match hers and rested his good hand on his sword out of habit. "They call you The Phoenix Queen," he began. They say your kindness is only matched by your beauty. And your beauty is only matched by your skill with a blade. But the people of Westeros dismiss the idea as propaganda. Ladies in The Seven Kingdoms do not usually learn to use weapons." The side of Jaime's mouth twitched up in a smirk recalling his earlier daydream of Aero cutting of the lords' heads.

"And?"

He thought of some of the more outlandish rumors that he had heard in the taverns. Shifty-eyed men deep in their cups would look this way and that and whisper about the queen as if she might overhear them. "The traders say you can sprout wings and often fly about shooting fireballs at those who oppose you. A most fearsome thing to behold."

"Truly?" she chuckled, amused.

"They say you can create fire with a wave of your hand. That you can do magic. That you are magic. Your gifts…" Jaime's sentence trailed away.

She nodded, slowly, looking at the floor. "Spellcasters are real," she said after a moment. "There has always been magic. Do you believe I am magic, Ser Jaime?

"I wouldn't know, Your Grace," he evaded.

Aero took a moment to look him over, eyes lingering on his golden hand before returning to his face. She held his gaze without blinking. "Will you approach me, Jaime Lannister?"

Jaime looked to his father and King Joffrey, both very interested in what was happening. Under normal circumstances, it would be inappropriate to abandon his post to involve himself in any events while he was supposed to be protecting the king. Tywin gave a nod for Jaime to do as the queen had requested and Jaime moved hesitantly toward her, his white cloak swishing behind him.

He stood in front of her, and noticed, not for the first time, how truly blue her eyes were. Like a cloudless sky just before the sun begins to set. She reached out to him, pulling at his golden hand, holding it up and examining it. At first, Jaime tried to pull away, ashamed at being so broken. But he relented and held it out for her to examine. She ran her fingers over the intricate designs cast in the metal until her fingers were tugging and unknotting the buckles that strapped the heavy metal hand to his forearm.

His stomach clenched when she detached the prosthetic from his arm and laid it aside on the table. Shame filled him when she unwound the wrappings from the stump at his wrist. The ugly scar was still puckered and red where Vargo Hoat had it cut off. He was stupid and reckless. And it had cost him dearly. He didn't bat an eye at seeing Vargo's decaying head when he returned to Harrenhal. Even so, he flinched when the queen ran her fingers across the horrid line of skin that had been poorly stitched together where his wrist should be.

Aero felt pity for the crippled knight, though she would deny it if he ever asked. It would dishonor him to be pitied. And a knight without his sword hand was no knight at all. She tugged at his arm and led him farther away from the table into an open space near a candle stand. He allowed himself to be pulled by her, too deep into whatever she was planning to back away now.

She took the stump of his arm in both of her hands, her palms warm on his skin. "I am magic, Ser Jaime," she confessed as she looked up at him through her dark lashes. "This is my gift to you."

The fires and candles in the dining hall suddenly went dark. A sense of calm enveloped Jaime, though, in the back of his mind, he knew he should be frightened. He looked down to find that Aero's palms were glowing gold around the stump of his arm. A swirling, shimmering mist twinkling with light appeared to hover around connection. It lit her face as a candle would until the mist grew bigger and brighter, surrounding them both. Jaime looked around in wonder at the dancing lights. For a moment he considered that he had gone mad—until the pain. Until the horrible, searing pain that itched and burned at his stump of a hand.

The lighted mist began to swirl around them faster. Faster than a breeze. Faster than fierce storm. He cried out in pain and watched Aero's black curls dance around her head, gathered in the air by the force of the wind she created. While the light reflected in the fire opals in her golden circlet making the stones appear to smolder amongst the yellow gold. The lights of the mist began to collect at his stump in a glowing frenzy until the outline of a hand had formed between hers. The pain was almost unbearable. Much worse than having the hand cut off. The itching was the worst. He tried again to pull away from Aero but found that he was still unable to move. In a flash, a blinding force of light shone in all directions, emanating from Jaime's hand. The people looking on turned away, temporarily blinded. And just as sudden, the hall went dark again. The fires returned and slowly everyone regained their sight as their eyes readjusted.

Cersei was the first to speak. "Jaime! Jaime! Are you harmed?"

Jaime could not answer. He stared speechlessly at his hand. His new hand that had grown as if by magic. It was magic, he reminded himself though he still couldn't quite believe it. "By the Gods!" he exclaimed when his voice finally found him.

Cersei was by his side the instant she could see. She, too, stared at his new hand. She took it in hers, not believing it to be real. But it was. She felt him flex and bunch his hand, testing the dexterity as the others looked on in shock and awe.

"How is this possible?" he breathed, his voice heavy with disbelief.

For the first time since the blinding flash, he tore his eyes away from his restored hand to look at the woman who had given him this gift. Aero gave him a sad smile and swayed, slightly as if she were drunk. Her eyes glossed over and as she was reaching for something to hold herself up, her legs collapsed underneath her. Jaime caught her just before she hit the floor, hauling her into his arms.

"Water," she begged as Jaime placed her in her chair. Her cheeks were flushed and sweat was beading on her forehead.

The servant she had thanked earlier was already at his side with a cup of water before Aero had asked for it. Jaime took the cup from the boy and pressed it into Aero's hands. She downed the cup in two gulps.

"I'm fine," she breathed when she had swallowed the last gulp. "I'm fine."

"Another. Please," Jaime demanded handing the cup back to the servant boy. Another servant refilled it from a water pitcher and the boy handed it back to Jaime. Jaime forced the cup into Aero's hands again. Cersei stood back, hands covering her mouth. She had thought nothing could shock her, jaded as she was. She was wrong.

"Thank you," Aero nodded and drank again, this time slower. Margaery was in front of her now, kneeling at the young queen's knees and pressing a cold cloth to her forehead.

"Would you like to retire to your chambers, Your Grace?" Margaery asked, concerned.

"Yes, I think I would." Aero nodded her head, laughing lightly. "I assure you, I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting something so small to take so much energy. I neglected to consider that I was creating something living out of nothing."

Tywin Lannister had drawn his sword when the fires had gone out. He stood, eyes narrowed at the scene, sword still in his hand. The father in him was grateful that his only son—the only son that could carry a sword—had his hand back. Jaime was mostly useless without it. However, the Hand of the King saw a problem. This woman professed friendship. She smiled. She said the right things. She had given gifts to his family. Though, in his case, he felt that the shattered sword was more of a warning than a gift. He knew very well what had happened the last time his family crossed the Sunset Sea. 402 men left Lannisport. Ten men returned. It was a fool's endeavor, to be honest. A host of the most skilled swordsmen in the kingdoms could not take the city of Cylix with 400 men. The Eryatheians slaughtered 392 Lannister men. And Lannister's always pay their debts. What debt would be owed to the Phoenix Queen if she decided that she required payment for Jaime's hand?

Jaime helped Aero return to her chambers, refusing to allow anyone else to do it. Aero was silent most of the walk and he could see that she was more exhausted than she let on. More than once, they had to stop so that she could catch her breath. He pretended not to notice. For a second—for one blindingly blissful second when her energy surged through him and his hand became real, he felt her soul touch his. He had never believed in souls before. When Cersei chattered on about how she and him were soulmates, he would roll his eyes. He still wasn't so naïve as to believe that soulmates existed, but he knew that he had a soul. And that was enough for now.

Later he would ask her if she had felt it, too. Because it was an intimate feeling, touching another's soul. He didn't know what his own felt like, but hers felt like a warm breeze in winter—the way it felt to feel the sun shining on your face and watching the flowers and trees begin to bud in the springtime. _'Does she know?'_ he wondered as they reached her door.

"I can't- I can't come up with the words to thank you," he stuttered, flexing his fingers again and watching the tendons move at the back of his hand. "Words feel so meaningless right now. I hope you'll forgive me."

Aero pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped into the entryway. She stopped just inside the door and turned to face him. "Would you ask me what gift you could give me?"

"Anything I can give is yours," he swore, dumbstruck that she could want anything from him.

She took his new hand in hers, testing the weight and brushing her fingers over his knuckles and down the joints of his fingers. "You owe me nothing. What I have given you is a second chance to become the man you should have been before the people of King's Landing whispered Kingslayer at your back instead of thanking you for saving them all. Be the light in the darkness, Jaime Lannister. Find what makes you want to be a better person and live the rest of your days fighting for what is good instead of what is commanded."

She let go of his hand and turned away, looking back only once to say goodnight before she closed the door behind her. "Goodnight, Queen Aero, he answered at her closed door in the dimly lit hallway. She heard his heavy footsteps as he walked away, presumably to his own chambers, wherever they may be.

A cool wind swept in from the open balcony that looked out over Blackwater Bay. She stepped out into the night air and pulled her arms tighter around her. In the distance, she could see a single ship out in water of the bay and knew that it was her ship, Serenity. Evann had promised her that he would leave a candle burning in his window. She saw the small light, even from the top of the castle tower and it made her feel warmer somehow.

It was a cold land, Westeros, not just in temperature, but the people also felt cold and aloof. The moonless night enveloped the land and the stars shone bright above her. These were the nights her mother lived for. Her heart gave a small heave as she remembered how her mother would sneak into her room late and pull her out of bed. They would climb to the tallest tower in the Shimmering Stone and lie down, heads together, to watch the stars pass over them.

Aero fixed eyes on the constellation of a winged-woman her mother always called the Valkyrie. The Valkyrie was a legend of her mother's people in the North of Eryatheia. She said that in the ancient days, the woman, Freyja, was given wings and chosen by the gods to protect the people of Eryatheia. She lived for hundreds of years, eventually falling in love with a mortal man. She loved him so much that when he fell in battle, she let out such a wail of sorrow that it could be heard across the Sunset Sea. So enraged she was, that she slaughtered her enemies leaving none left alive. She found him, his lungs too full with blood to breathe. He had just enough strength left to wipe away the tear running down her cheek before his body went limp and he died in her arms. She was so overcome with grief, she prayed to the gods to take her life so that he might live. Instead of granting her wish, the gods raised them both up to the sky, immortal, living together among the stars with the constellation of the Lover forever next to the Valkyrie.

Aero found the star she was looking for, a red light at the center of the Valkyrie that her mother said was Freyja's heart.

"Mother," she called softly into the night air as she had done every night since she was seven. "I made it. I'm in Westeros. It's exciting to be out of Eryatheia, but now that I'm gone, I worry that I made the wrong choice. The people here… their hearts are frozen. Their eyes are either trying to intimidate me or telling me to run. The king is a vile, cruel boy and his mother is callous and calculating. But I healed two people today. One was a young girl that had been beaten, and the other was the king's uncle." Her mind drifted away for just long enough for her body to remind her how exhausted she was.

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the balcony railing. "Evann is here with me. I can tell that he doesn't enjoy being her, though he tries to hide it for my sake. He's worried something is going to happen to me and he won't be there to protect me. I know father and the three idiots you birthed before me worry, too. But you don't need to worry about me. Watch over father and my brothers. I love you."

Aero took her time disrobing and pulling on her night clothes, the stiffness in her muscles causing her to wince. In the morning, she would ask someone to help her bring up water so she could take a proper bath. She twisted her long hair into braid over her shoulder and sank down into the soft feather mattress. She was asleep within minutes.

* * *

You people are wonderful and you have my undying love. Questions or comments are always welcome. Have a beautiful day. :)


	4. Evann

The sun was barely beginning to peer over the horizon and Cersei was already in her father's solar sipping at a glass of wine. She studied the old man, deep in concentration as he sifted through the various letters and maps laid out across his desk. _Cold and discerning_ , she thought. _And yet a coward in so many ways_. People spoke of him as if he were the most powerful person in Westeros. _But they're wrong. It's Joffrey that sits on the throne. Tywin Lannister may have won battles for the crown, but it would never rest upon his head. And that's what makes us different_. _My son sits on the Iron Throne. I have the power. I am not a little girl deigned to obey her father anymore._

Cersei took another sip of wine, continuing to watch her father over the rim of the cup. "Do you believe she is genuine in her efforts at friendship?" she asked after a moment. There was no need to specify about whom she was speaking. Aero Vysrane came into King's Landing like fierce storm that would no doubt cause a great deal of damage. Cersei had to remind herself that the young queen would be gone after Joffrey's wedding and with any luck, she would never come back to Westeros.

Tywin sat back in his chair and tried to see his only daughter without the bias of a father. Cersei was never stupid. But she was vengeful. And emotional. And single-minded to the point of recklessness. "No," he answered simply.

"She gave Jaime his hand back."

Tywin scoffed "Don't tell me you are so easily swayed."

Cersei narrowed her eyes at him. "Of course not. What is she playing at, asking for nothing?" She stood, her long dress trailing behind her as she began to pace.

"She hasn't asked for anything _yet_. Everyone has their own agenda. The time will come when she asks for something we cannot give. But before it does, I have a plan that will assure her allegiance. ...If it works." Going back to the scrolls on his desk, he settled on a map of the know lands. Eryatheia sat just across the Sunset Sea—barely and hand's width away from Lannisport on the elaborate map.

"And what plan is that?" Cersei asked, barely listening to her father when her own thoughts were running wild.

"Jaime will marry her."

Cersei halted mid stride and stared open-mouthed at her father. "Father. You can't." Her chest heaved and she suddenly felt as though she were trying to breathe underwater.

Stoic as ever, Tywin remained unfazed at her reaction. "I can and I will."

Pushing a stack of creased letters in her direction, he stared down his daughter until she sat down in the chair across from his desk once more. "Eryatheia is rich in gemstones, gold, and silk. They have been trading with Dorne for well over three hundred years, but after the Lannister assault on Cylix, the Vysrane family has refused to deal with Lannisport and stopped trading with King's Landing during the reign of the Mad King. It was only after Robert became king that Ixion Vysrane sought to extend a hesitant hand in friendship. And with Littlefinger's propensity to borrow money, the crown is in a great deal of debt to Eryatheia. It is in our best interest to pursue this match."

Cersei emptied her wine glass, the alcohol making her less fretful though her heart was still beating furiously. "And what of his vows to protect your king?" she inquired with a calmness she did not feel.

"I have already spoken to the High Septon. With a moderate amount of gold to ease his decision, he has agreed to release Jaime of his vows to the Kingsguard. Jaime will sit on the Lord's Chair at Casterly Rock and he will get Aero Vysrane to marry him." Quite pleased with himself, Tywin allowed a rare smirk to grace his otherwise passive expression. Cersei thought how odd it was to see the small smile on her father's face.

"She is queen of her own lands. What makes you think that she would give up her people to live at Casterly Rock under Joffrey's rule?"

"Women far older and wiser than she have done much more foolish things for love." Love. He scoffed at the word. He only believed in love when it was used to his advantage. "She falls in love with Jaime. They will be married here. She will be Lady of Casterly Rock and she will give the throne back to her father or her eldest brother, I don't particularly care which. The point is that we secure an alliance with Eryatheia and the lordship of Casterly Rock remains in Lannister hands. This is about strategy. And seizing an opportunity presented to us." He brought his finger down on another map showing Lannisport and Casterly Rock as he spoke.

"And what if she tries to take him back to Eryatheia?" Cersei asked, having refilled her wine glass and emptied it again already. Her face was now flushed and her words were angrier. "What then? I will not let my brother be taken away from us by some whore from across the sea!"

Tywin slammed his fist down on the desk making her jump in her seat. "He is the heir to Casterly Rock and she is a woman! She will do as he commands."

Now flushed with embarrassment at losing her temper as well as the effects of the alcohol, she asked calmly, "Does Jaime know of this plan?"

Leaning back in his chair without a modicum of concern, Tywin casually examined a fingernail. "I haven't found it necessary to tell him yet. They seem to have already formed a tentative friendship. And her giving Jaime back his hand will have only strengthened their bond. " His green eyes, the same color as hers looked up at her with a sharp glare that he used to use when she was a small girl. "And you will not tell him."

Cersei looked down at her lap. There was a long pause where she heard more maps and letters being shuffled around as her lord father continued to plot and scheme as he always did. "She won't do it, you know," Cersei whispered. "She's too wild. You can smell it on her like a wild beast despite her pretty smiles and manners. Even if all your other plans come to fruition, she will never bend the knee. Not to us." She looked up at her father, defiant. But he remained as impassive as ever. He knew politics and battle strategies. But he knew nothing of the hearts of women. That is how she and Jaime had kept their secret for so long.

"You underestimate your brother," he responded coolly. "I've sent him out to escort her into the city today and busied the Tyrell whelp on the tourney grounds. I will hear no more of this."

Seething and having been thoroughly dismissed, Cersei stood and departed from the room allowing the door to close softly behind her.

* * *

Aero awoke that morning to the familiar sound of a whetstone being dragged down the edge of a blade. She opened her eyes to see that Evann had let himself into her room and was currently lounging next to her on the bed with his boots kicked off and his back against the headboard. She blinked again at the shrill sound of the blade against whetstone and rolled over, stretching her arms over her head.

"Why do you do this to me?" she yawned, stretching out her sore muscles

"Fun, mostly."

"I could make you swords that don't need to be sharpened, you know." It was an old argument that they had.

"You don't get to touch my swords. Father made me these swords." He paused for a moment, setting the whetstone down in his lap and pulled an apple from his pocket. She smiled and caught the apple when he lightly tossed it though he could have easily handed it to her. It reminded her of Cylix. Evann was always an early riser whereas Aero liked to take her time getting out of bed. More often than not, he would get tired of waiting on her and go to her room to wake her up. It became a habit at some point over the years.

She sat up with her back against the headboard and kicked the heavy covers off of her without bothering to cover herself in her nightclothes. The simple cotton shirt came down to the middle of her thighs but she smoothed it out anyway as she lazily crossed her ankles. The light whorls on her skin stretched out from the hem and covered her legs fading just past her calf muscle. Evann had seen her in her nightshirt so often when he came to wake her up that she rarely bothered to put on her robe anymore.

"Did you go out drinking with some of the men last night?" Aero asked, biting into the sweet red apple.

"I did," he responded with an over rehearsed air of nonchalance. He knew where this was leading.

"Did they find company to keep them happy?"

"Dev did, of course. Most of the crew went back to the ship alone."

"And you? Did you find a lovely young lady to keep you company?" She hid her smile behind her apple. It worried her sometimes that Evann didn't seem particularly interested in pursuing romantic relationships. There had been girls that he would sneak around with when he was younger, but as he grew older, his affections for random women had lessened as he had become more infatuated with the idea of having a soulmate.

Evann sighed at her question. This is exactly where he suspected Aero was taking the conversation. "You know I don't pay for my company."

She knew he didn't. He never had. "How are you finding the ladies of King's Landing?"

"Boring," he replied without bothering to look up. He tested the edge of the sword and satisfied with the sharpness, he started on the other one. His hook swords were his most prized possession.

"No sparks? None of that love-at-first-sight feeling you're always going on about?"

He shook his head, continuing to drag the whetstone down the edge of the blade in his lap. "Absolutely nothing. The kind, educated ones seem to either have been already married off or they're too highborn for the likes of me."

She huffed, but let the highborn comment slide. When they were young, she didn't understand what it meant to be a highborn or lowborn. Now she did. Not that it mattered overly much to her. To be perfectly honest, there were many times that she would shirk her responsibilities when her father had important guests visit and she would have dinner with Evann's family rather than be subjected to smiling dutifully and wishing she were elsewhere.

"And you really believe that when you see the right person you'll just magically know?" she asked, using her shirt sleeve to wipe the apple juice from around her mouth.

The shriek of the whetstone down metal paused when he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "You are the very last person that should dismiss the idea of magic. Love is magic."

"Magic is magic," she countered with her mouth full, having taken another bite of the apple. "Love is… I don't know what love is. Not real love. I love my family. I love my people. I love you. It feels deep and absolute, but it doesn't feel like magic." She crossed one arm over her body, underneath her breasts and brought her other hand to rest against the side of her mouth like she always did she was concentrating. After a moment, she turned to him and asked "What do you think?"

Evann shrugged, picking up his whetstone again. "I think it's more the idea of magic. I'm going to find that girl, and when I find her, that's it. I'm done."

"But how do you know? How do you have that kind of certainty that this specific person is the person you want to be with for the rest of your life instead of the person you're settling for?" Everything was all too uncertain for her. How was she meant to choose a husband to love for the rest of her life when she didn't know what love is?

"Have you ever just watched people in love? How they look at each other?" Aero shook her head so Evann continued. "I sometimes notice the way my father looks at my mother. When she's concentrating on something and not paying attention. He looks at her like she's the only thing he sees—like she's the only thing that matters. Like she's magic." She had been too young to notice things like that when her mother was alive. But she liked to think that her mother and father would still be madly in love. And now that he had pointed it out, Aero remembered subtle things about how the Vicari's interacted with each other—how Ilando would watch Melaena hang clothes up to dry or caress her hair when he thought no one was watching. "And I know you _are_ magic," Evann reasoned. "I know that. But knowing you has made me believe that magic can mean different things."

"Like what?" she asked.

Evann shifted himself so that he was facing her on the bed, his swords across his lap. "Like when you're explaining to me how you make things like the swords that never need sharpening or the necklace you made for the Stark girl. There's nothing written down. It's not like there's such a thing as a spellbook. You feel it."

Aero crinkled her nose—another habit she had when she was concentrating. "I think of what I want to accomplish and put my emotions and my heart into it. Then I feel this sort of warmth inside of me that lets me know the magic worked."

"Exactly. Emotions. Heart. Warmth. All that. Love is magic." He shrugged with the finality of winning the argument. Aero leaned forward to stretch her arms out toward her toes as Evann sheathed his swords in the baldrick that he carried on his back before adding "But the deal is off if she can't cook."

Aero laughed and made an attempt to punch him playfully. She was thwarted by his quick reflexes. He caught her hand easily and pulled her under his arm, her temple resting against his cheekbone. "You are hopeless," she chided him still chuckling under her breath.

Evann drummed his fingers against his chin. "And obviously if you don't like her, I'm not going to marry her."

She pulled away slightly to look up at him. "Really?" she asks, suspiciously.

He shrugged again and sighed. "You're one of those annoying people that likes to find the good in everyone. If you don't like her or she doesn't like you, she's not worth my time." He frowned realized what he had just said. "…I'm never getting married am I?"

Aero grimaced and leaned back against him. "Well that will make both of us, then. Father said when I get back, he wants me to meet the son of Lord Enton from the Fire Fields. 'You have been queen for seven years now,' she lectured in a deep voice imitating her father. "And in that time, you should have found a husband. Any self respecting queen would be married with heirs by now.'"

Evann laughed at Aero's perfect impersonation of King Ixion. "You know he only wants what's best for you. And probably grandchildren since your brothers also seem to be taking their time finding suitable marriages."

She visibly shuddered. "Could you see me having children with any of the suitors he's brought to Cylix?"

Evann smirked remembering the lords that King Ixion had brought to Cylix to meet Aero. She had refused all of them. _And rightly so_ , he thought. "I liked that one… what was his name? The guy with the huge arms and chest but he had really small legs? Oh! Or the one that kept confusing the word falconry with fornication. And let's not forget the one that insisted on taking every meal in his room because he didn't like to eat in front of people."

"But there were others that were nice!" she exclaimed. "Lord Telmin was very… He was very intelligent."

"Oh, yeah. Very intelligent. And also a pompous asshole that started every sentence with 'Did you know…?' Is that what you want to hear when he's on top you?" Evann made a face of disgust at the mere thought. "And then there was that one guy that I had to help pull out of his bathing tub because he had gotten himself suctioned to the bottom somehow. You would have made a great pair."

"You would never let me settle, would you?"

"Nope" he replied taking what was left her apple and finishing it off. "I'd carry you out of the Great Temple on my shoulder in your wedding dress if I had to."

She smiled to herself and smoothed her night shirt down her legs again. "I love you."

He easily tossed the apple across the room into the unused chamber pot next to the fireplace. "You don't want to marry _me_ , do you?"

They laughed together. It was another old joke. "Gods, no. But someone like you, definitely."

Evann's laugh broke off into bitterness as he pulled his arm from around her and leaned forward, chin in his hand. "Yeah. Someone like me."

"What?" she sniffed, put off by his sudden change in temperament. "You have a problem with me wanting to marry someone like you?"

"I don't. But others…" He trailed off and shook his head. "Everyone in Cylix knows you're my best friend and it's easy to forget what I am when I live in a castle and I watch you wear fancy dresses and staff that brings us cold water when we're in the sparring yard. It's easy to forget that I'm a lowborn. Everywhere I look here, it reminds me."

Aero's mouth turned downward into a frown and reached out to touch his shoulder. "I never thought of you as lowborn. I never really cared. I think because we became friends when we were young and it's only when we grow up that we learn prejudice and hate. Have I ever treated you differently?"

Evann shook his head again. "No. That's what I mean. I don't think about it when we're at home. The staff always set a place for me at your family's table. Always. It's always been Evann and Aero. Aero and Evann. When Pyrus found out that I kissed you, he wasn't even mad. He thought it was gross and told me 'Eww. You kissed our sister.' He said ' _our_ sister' like it was the most ordinary thing in the world." He turned to look at her over his shoulder, but didn't lean back and allow her to comfort him.

"They've always thought of you as a younger brother," she assured him, her hand still resting on his back. "And you've always been one of the people that I care about most. I don't follow this love-at-first-sight philosophy like you do, but I'd like to think that when I find the person I should be with, I'll know it. What should it matter if he was born in a castle or a shack if he makes me happy?"

She felt a low rumble in his chest where he was chuckling under his breath. "You think Ixion will let you marry a lowborn?" Evann rolled his eyes and turned away from her again. "You know all the men he's brought to Cylix have been lords."

She didn't respond, but then, she didn't have to. She had never considered the possibility that her father would be upset with her if she married someone below her class.

"You're so stupid sometimes, Aer," he scolded. "Ixion's not going to let his grandchild have base blood. So he let you be friends with me. So what? But I'm pretty sure he'd change his mind if he thought I was putting my penis inside of you."

Before she really realized what she was doing, Aero had already cocked her arm back and punched Evann as hard as she could. The blow caught him on the shoulder and knocked him off of the bed and onto the floor with a dull thud. She peered over the side to find him somewhat dazed and rubbing furiously at the spot she had hit.

"What in the name of the gods did you do that for?" he howled, standing up and glaring at her. They had been in fights before—knockdown, dragout fights that left both of them with plenty of bruises.

He towered over her as he stood at the edge of the bed and looked down at her where she was still sitting. She raised up on her knees where she was still shorter than him, but less so. It didn't matter. She was angry. She balled her fists up at her side and prepared to hit him again.

"Don't you ever think that I won't kick your ass for even thinking that I would let something so insignificant dictate who I love. If you were the love of my life instead of just a pain in my ass, I would tell my father that I couldn't give a shit about whom he expects me to marry. You, who knows me better than anyone in this world, _you_ should know that."

Despite the pain, Evann couldn't help but be charmed by his best friend. He should have known. She would fight with him and _for_ him until the very end. It was only he that let his own bitterness get the better of himself. With a silly, lopsided grin on his face that only seemed to upset her more, he made a deft move and tackled her to the bed, pulling her against his chest. "I love you, too," he retorted over her very unqueenlike squeal of surprise.

She fought him, of course, cursing and biting all the while. He eventually relented and let her pull away from him with her hair disheveled and her nightshirt scrunched up to her upper thighs.

"You complete, unmitigated ass!" she yelled, grabbing the nearest pillow and hitting him in the head with it.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, taking the pillow away from her. "Only my mother is allowed to call me that."

It was then that one of the servants entered the room. What a sight they must have been. Aero was straddling Evann and laughing maniacally while repeatedly trying to hit him with a pillow. The other pillows and half of the coverings were thrown onto the floor.

They looked up at the intrusion, Aero with a look of determination in her face and Evann was still laughing and trying to subdue her by holding onto her wrists. Aero noticed that the serving woman that entered her room was carrying a steaming pail of water and looked quite surprised to find the foreign queen sitting on top of a young man in only a nightshirt.

The woman, gathering her composure, quickly began apologizing and backing out of the room. "Forgive me, Your Grace! I'll come back later!"

"It's fine!" Aero called after her, beckoning for the girl to come in. "Of course it's fine. Please come back."

With one last blow to Evann's head with the pillow, Aero dismounted him where she was sitting on his stomach. She pulled the tossed covers up to her lap to cover her bare legs and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed while Evann casually propped himself up on one elbow to observe.

The woman looked back and forth from Evann to the young queen, still hesitant.

"Lady Margaery bid us to bring you warm bathwater this morning, Your Grace," the woman said quietly casting her eyes to the floor. "And to help you with your dressing and hair if you request."

Switching back to what Evann liked to call her very formal 'queen personality,' Aero nodded at the woman. "I would like a hot bath very much. Please tell your lady that she is very thoughtful. And if it's not too much trouble, I would like a handful of rosemary sprigs to add to my bath."

"No trouble at all, Your Grace." The woman curtsied and moved to the round soaking tub made from stone that rose up from the floor with curved steps on one side that sloped gracefully into a shelf on the other half.

Other women attendants moved fluidly in and out of the room filling the bath with steaming water. It seemed they had been warned to take no notice of the blond man in the queen's bed as they kept their eyes downcast.

Evann made no move to leave when Aero slipped from the bed and told him to close his eyes so she could pull the cotton nightshirt over her head. He did as he was told, not peeking as he would have done in his adolescent years. When they were younger, he was fascinated with the markings on Aero's skin. He was still, truth be told, but now they had become less of an oddity to be stared at and more of just another interesting thing that made Aero who she is—as much a part of her as her laugh or her heart.

The women were gone and it was just the two of them again. It sometimes amazed Evann how effortlessly Aero could slip back and forth between being the formal queen to being the Aero he knew—the one that cursed and spit and laughed easily. If was difficult for her to be herself here, he knew, when she was walking amongst the lions and barbed roses. She wore her queen personality like armor in the strange land. He knew very few people of Westeros would ever meet his Aero.

Aero twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head so that it wouldn't get wet and sighed as she sank into the steaming water. One of the women had taken it upon themselves to crush up the rosemary before adding it to her bath and it smelled wonderful. Adding rosemary to a bath was one of her healers old remedies for muscle pain and weakness. She felt the soreness gradually melt away from her muscles. A variety of soaps were laid out for her on the ledge of the tub. She chose the least perfumed from among them, but she still ended up smelling like Alyssum.

She pulled a long cloth from the shelf, using it to dry off and wrap around her body. Evann had moved to the table near the door and was humming an old Eryatheian song that she remembered her mother used to sing her. The trunks with her dresses in them were littered about the room, and though Evann was far from fashion savvy, Aero asked him to bring her a simple dress as she ducked behind a partition to dress. She heard him shuffling through her things for a moment before he found something suitable. He tossed it over the top of the partition for her to catch and she heard his footsteps and the soft creak of the chair as he sat back down at the table.

"What are your plans for today?" he asked casually. He worried about her. Especially here. Especially when he had other obligations and couldn't be with her to protect her if she needed it. He smirked to himself thinking how ridiculous the idea was. There wasn't a soul he could name that was less in need of his protection than Aero. She had bested him at every weapon since they were younglings in the sparring yard with wooden swords. But that still didn't keep him from worrying. He didn't know these people. He didn't trust these people.

"Nothing more than meeting Tobho Mott at his forge, I suppose. But perhaps Ser Loras will show me more of the city." Aero stepped out from behind the partition in a simple one-shoulder black silk dress. With it only covering one shoulder and leaving her arms bare, she could only imagine the nasty looks she was likely to get from Cersei if she had the misfortune to run into her. She untwisted the knot of hair on the top of her head and let it fall down her back.

"I think I'd like to see the dragon pit," Evann threw in, once again examining his swords. He was now looking down the length of them for slight scratches and imperfections in the flat of the blade. "Perhaps your Ser Loras would be kind enough to save that particular adventure for another day when I can come with you."

"He's not _my_ anything," she scowled retrieving her circlet crown from where she had put it on the table last night.

"But he could be," Evann sang knowing that it would annoy her.

She only cocked an eyebrow at him. "I think he was looking at you more than he was looking at me."

Evann perked up in his chair with a slightly confused expression. "You think?"

Aero nodded.

"Huh." He leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin for a bit. "No. He was definitely looking at you, too." Evann shrugged and leaned back with his hands behind his head. "He seems like the type that would lead someone on and take them to bed and then realize he has too much dignity to court them."

"Someone like men or women?"

"Either... Both," Evann decided. "I'm betting on both."

Aero found her sword still in its scabbard lying in the chair across from Evann.

"If you find a valyrian steel master here, will we stay longer?" he asked picking up the other sword to examine from scratches.

Aero belted her sword at her waist and twisted it so that it rested in a comfortable spot on her left him.

"I don't know." She looked down at the only pair of black shoes that she liked because they wedged at the heel like her boots, but unlike her boots they were easy to slip on. She shook her head. "One thing at a time right now, okay? How do I look?"

Evann's answer was cut off by a knock at the door where Jaime Lannister had entered the room.

"Ser Jaime," Aero greeted him with a smile. "I'm surprised at seeing you."

* * *

AN: Sorry this update has taken so long. I wanted to work so much into this chapter that my original draft ended up being 10,000 words just for chapter 4 so I had to break it up into two chapters. Sorry. But we meet Gendry in the next chapter, so there's that. Also, do any of you guys watch Dan and Phil? We should be friends.

-n


	5. Singed Silk

Jaime made his way through the twisting corridors of the Red Keep and arrived at Aero's chambers. The chill in the air that came with the dawn had subsided. The rising sun had chased away the mists from the bay and the city was alive with movement. Gods how he hated it. When he briefed his father with the report Ser Loras had given him, he didn't expect that Tywin would find it so fascinating. There was something in what he had said that interested his father a great deal, but he couldn't even begin to guess what it was.

Nevertheless, Jaime was surprised when he received a summons to his father's solar early in the morning. Ser Loras was meant to accompany Queen Aero to Tobho Mott's shop today, but Lord Tywin claimed that the boy had been detained and insisted that Jaime escort the queen. Jaime didn't mind. Between escorting Aero and standing guard next to Joffrey and his obnoxious affinity for proclaiming himself the best at everything, it was not a difficult decision. Though it annoyed him greatly to do what his father told him when it was what he wanted anyway.

He stood outside of Aero's door and adjusted the sword at his waist. The weight of the steel rested on his left hip and it felt good and familiar—like an old friendship.

"If you find a master here, will we stay longer?" Jaime heard a male voice ask from inside the queen's room. His eyebrows narrowed. He did not expect that she would have male visitors so early.

"I don't know," he heard Aero answer. "One thing at a time right now, okay? How do I look?"

Jaimie wanted to stand and listen at the door longer, but the servant walking past him in the corridor cleared her throat as she neared him. He recognized the girl as one of Cersei's spies. With no choice but to knock, he rapped on the heavy wooden door and pushed into the room.

He noticed the boy first. Sitting at the table next to the East window. From Ser Loras' description, he surmised that this must be the blond man from Aero's crew that had escorted her with her belongings to the Keep yesterday. Ser Loras had called him a man. To Jaime, he was a boy that looked no older than twenty years.

Jaime, startled at the flash of steel in the boy's hand, immediately reached for his own sword. It was a moment before he realized that the boy was merely holding the strange swords at an angle to examine the sharpness down the blade. It was a practice that Jaime also did every morning with his own sword.

The boy, not particularly alarmed by the intrusion, looked up from his swords. Seemingly unimpressed with Jaime in his white Kingsguard armor, he turned and began putting the swords away in a leather sheath.

"Ser Jaime." Aero greeted him with a smile as she moved toward him. The sun shining in at her back from the balcony created a halo around her. "I'm surprised at seeing you. I was waiting for Ser Loras to escort me around the city."

In such a short time that he didn't understand himself, Jaime, who was rarely serious about anything, had developed a serious fondness for the young queen. Feelings of any kind made him uncomfortable, particularly when he couldn't get control over them. He tried in vain to suppress the way his heart began to hammer in his chest and his palms grew sweaty like some awkward, inexperienced youth.

She wore the fire opal encrusted circlet on her brow as she usually did with her long black hair falling in waves around her shoulders and down her back. The black silk dress she wore was simple enough with no embellishments, though the dark fabric only crossed one shoulder leaving the other shoulder and both arms bare. Certainly not Westerosi style at all. More so since the marking she had shown him on her back and forearm were more obvious across her shoulders and down her upper arms. The thick silk cinched at the seams down her sides and pulled the fabric tight across her body and relaxed just where her sword belt lay. Her dresses all seemed to rest low on her hips where her sword would hang. The idea that Aero would make this a requirement in her wardrobe amused him for some reason.

Jaime composed himself and stepped farther into the room. "Ser Loras has been detained at the tournament grounds," he explained. "I was sent in his stead. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." She smiled at him and held her hand out for him to take so she could pull him to the table where the blond boy sat. Jaime was struck at how casually she took his hand just to walk three steps. The boy stood, pushed his chair flush with the table and fastened the leather straps of the baldric carrying his swords over his shoulders. "Jaime, this is Evann," Aero freed Jaime's hand and motioned to the blond that he now saw stood slightly taller than Jaime expected. Evann extended his hand hesitantly and Jaime took it. They shook hands, albeit both distrustful of the other.

"Well, I'm going to head back to the ship." Evann's chest heaved with a sigh and turned to face Aero. "The captain sent me to check on you so that I could report back that you did indeed survive the night. I was distracted. Forgive me." He and Aero shared a smile like a secret and he grasped her by the shoulders to pull her into a hug. "Be safe," he murmured against her temple before he released the hold on her arms to kiss her on the forehead.

"No trouble," she promised with a nod.

"Liar," the boy countered with a chuckle.

Loras had told Jaime of the boy named Evann and his familiarity with the young queen. Even so, he didn't expect it to be so intimate. He felt a pang of some emotion he didn't recognize hit him in the stomach.

Evann had gone, choosing to take River Row back to the docks. Jaime, on the other hand, escorted Aero down a different street through the center of the city. High upon a hill not very far away, Aero could see where he pointed out the Great Sept of Baelor. Tobho Mott's shop, he assured her, was just beyond the hill. She loved walking through the city and enjoyed the way children would smile up at her with missing teeth when she would bend down to say hello. They were very curious of the markings on her arms and wanted to touch them. She allowed them to trace the lines up and down her arms and ruffled their hair when Jaime insisted they keep moving. No one had tried to harm the queen yet, but he was still wary of being in the middle of a street so open with so many people.

He took her through the city square and down beside the Guildhall of the Alchemists. He would speak of the people in the city and she would interrupt to ask questions. He explained in as much detail as he could what it meant to be a maester and the studies that went into it as well as what the links on a maester's chain means. She was never short of questions, asking about the fortification of the city and the crime and the availability of jobs. When there was a lapse in her questions, he decided to ask her about Evann.

"You and the boy?"

"Evann," she corrected knowing he could only be referring to Evann.

Jaime nodded. "Evann." There was a brief pause where his chest tightened as he was deciding how to phrase his question without insulting her. "Are you…"

"Having a secret affair?" she supplied before he could finish. He sucked in his breath. But she laughed easily and brushed her shoulder against his companionably. "No. Evann and I are close, but only friends."

The tightening in his chest lessened. "He carries odd swords."

"Hook swords," she explained. "A nameday present from his father when Evann reached manhood."

"And what of your weapon?" he asked, his eyes wandering down to her left hip. "You carry it everywhere but no one has seen it."

Aero quirked an eyebrow. "What makes you think I only carry one weapon?" she asked playfully. "I only pull my sword when I intend to use it. Would you like to see it?"

"Do you intend to use it on me?"

He let her pull her hand from where it rested in the crook of his elbow. She unsheathed her sword from a black scabbard that was decorated to match the line patterns on her body. They had stopped in the middle of the street and various people moved about them continuing on with their day. Some of them noticed Aero's crown or her dress or the marks on her skin and stared. Others cared nothing about the young queen and the Captain of the Kingsguard in the middle of the street and carried on.

"Not this time," she replied cheekily, carefully handing the sword to him. "I named it Shadow." He took the grip in his right hand and held the blade flat across his palm of his left. It was lighter than he expected. He also didn't expect the blade to be black. It was exceptionally beautiful. The double edged black blade was polished to a high shine and engraved with the same markings as her scabbard and her skin at the shoulder of the blade. The guard was made of the same black steel as the blade, but left purposely unpolished and the sewn black leather of the grip led up to the pommel inlaid with a single rough cut black diamond that protruded from either side of the metal.

Jaime inspects her sword. It was simple but elegant. Testing it, he gave it a few turns and held it outstretched to assess the balance. He almost dropped it when he felt a pulse emanate from the grip. At first, he didn't realize—didn't believe that the pulse, like that of a beating heart, could have come from the sword. But the longer he held it, he was certain. His eyebrows drew together and he frowned.

"You made this." It was more of a statement than a question. Of course she made it. When he held it, he could feel that it was like holding a piece of her in his hand.

"I did," she nodded at his statement.

"It doesn't flame does it?" he asked suspiciously remembering how Thoros would use wildfire to set his sword ablaze in mêlées.  
Aero chuckled at his apprehensive expression. "A flaming sword would be absurd. The fire would cauterize the wound."

He held the sword at arm's length again. "It's small," he noted.

"It not!" she frowned.

"It is! See here." Jaime pulled his own sword and held it beside hers. Hers was barely a hand's width shorter than his.

Aero huffed and flicked a loose curl behind her shoulder. "I've heard many men tell their ladies 'It's not the size that counts, it's how you use it.'" She plucked her sword from Jaime's hand and sheathed it as he sheathed his. "I'm sure this must be the case for all manner of _swords_."

Jaime squinted at the young queen and grinned at her brazen remark. "You are a clever one, aren't you?"

Instead of answering, she tucked her hand back into the crook of his elbow.

Still smiling, he led her forward. Tobho Mott's shop came into view around the curve of the Street of Steel. The multi leveled shop towered over the other shops around it. With two knights in the shape of a griffin and unicorn carved from stone at the entrance and the heavy double doors with a weirwood and ebony carved hunting scene, Mott had spared no expense in showing that he was the most profitable armorer in King's Landing.

They passed through the stone statues and the open doors. Jaime moved aside to let her enter first. Walking into Mott's shop was like walking into her own forge at home. The shop smelled of leather, burning coal, sweat, and the distinctive scent of super-heated iron. She loved it. She took a moment to close her eyes and breathed in all in.

An older man in a long leather apron appeared wiping his hands with a damp rag. The damp rag did nothing to clean the black soot stains from his hands that had no doubt been there since well before she was born. Jaime greeted Mott as one would an acquaintance. Aero took that time to look around the shop. Swords and various pieces of armor hung from the walls. Some she saw must have been specially made for specific knights or houses as the steel was tinted various colors and house sigils were engraved on some of the breastplates. The floor was flat stone beneath her feet. If it had been any lesser forge, the floor would have been bare earth. The stone was meticulously swept clean of debris and the hearth was burning in back corner of the room between a set of bellows and the water trough just to the right.

The clear ring of a hammer hitting steel resonated out from the center of the room and it drew her eye to a tall young man with dark hair, soot smeared on his arms, hands, and across one cheek. Tiny burn holes had singed into the front of his protective leather apron and a couple in the thin fabric vest he wore underneath. He hunched his shoulders, bending down to hammer out a piece of steel and she found herself admiring the gleam of sweat over his thickly muscled arms—the strong arms of a blacksmith. She absentmindedly ran her hand over her own arm from her shoulder to her elbow. Her muscles were not nearly as vast as his, but they were strong.

The young man stood upright and examined a piece of what appeared to be the base of a shoulder plate from a suit of armor that he was working on. With the face of dissatisfaction that she often wore herself when she was working in the forge, he bent back down and began to rework the curve of the cusp.

"Queen Aero?"

Jaime brought her attention back to the conversation.

"How might I help you, Your Grace?" asked the old man with a crooked smile.

Aero clasped her hands in front of her. "I was told that you know how to work Valyrian steel."

Mott nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, Your Grace. The only blacksmith in Westeros that can reforge the metal."

Aero set her face with a look of determination despite knowing she was likely to be met with criticism. "I would like to learn."

It didn't come as a shock that Mott laughed, but it irritated her nonetheless. "Your Grace," he chuckled. "Please do not take this as an insult, but it takes several years to learn to be an adequate blacksmith and many more to master. I would very much like to help you, but I'm afraid it cannot be learned in so short a time."

"I am already a master blacksmith." A smug sense of satisfaction washed over her as she held out her arms and hands to show him her work-hardened palms and the burn marks amid the light whorls that traced down her skin.

It was shocking to her when his face broke out into an even wider crooked smile "Are you truly? What an unexpected surprise!" She expected her statement to be met with disbelief, but she supposed that her arms were proof enough being that some of her scars likely matched his. "As it happens, I was commissioned to make two Valyrian steel blades just days ago. I haven't yet began to rework the original sword yet. See for yourself."

Mott turned away for a moment to pull a very long object wrapped in fabric from underneath a nearby table. She and Jaime moved closer as he began to unwrap one of the largest swords she had ever seen. It was wider than the width of her hand and if it still had it's guard and grip, it would have reached the height of her rib cage. If it had been ordinary steel instead of the lighter Valyrian steel, it would have taken a giant to wield it.

The blade was bare with no superfluous engravings or sigil.

In wonderment, she reached out to run her fingers along the flat of the smoky blade.

An image flashed in her head. Blood. Death. Ruin. Her heart wrenched as she felt the most recent death still fresh in the metal—Ned Stark's death.

There was a reason why she chose to work with metal. It holds memories the way people do. It comes from the earth and is reborn in fire like the phoenix. She learned when she was a child that she could feel the memories of others. Some were stronger than others. And some like Tywin Lannister have kept memories and thoughts so closely guarded that she couldn't feel anything at all. It didn't happen with everyone because every person is different like every sword is different. Newer swords hardly held any memories in them, but Ice had been passed down in House Stark for hundreds of years, though the sword itself was even older than that.

"Ice," she hissed, disgusted.

"Yes," the smith sighed sadly. "It's a travesty to destroy such an amazing historic piece of work. The craftsmanship is unmatched and see the ripple pattern. Steel folded over on itself thousands of times. What a wonder it is." The smith stared down longingly at the greatsword with his hands on his hips. "And what a shame that such an endeavor would come at a time when I am old can no longer reforge such steel on my own."

Aero looked up, stunned. "You won't be reforging the weapons yourself?"

The old man shook his head miserably. "I will oversee. But I'm afraid the brunt of the work will fall to my most gifted apprentice." He points over his shoulder at the young man she had been observing in the back. "Mastering Valyrian steel is no more difficult than mastering high-carbon steel. Only the technique has been almost forgotten since the Doom of Old Valyria. Only the fire of a dragon can melt the metal completely, but the furnace can burn hot enough to make the steel workable. And because the metal is so pure, it must be folded many more times to retain its strength. It is a very daunting task," he explained running both his hands over the sword as one would a treasured possession.

She looked over Mott's shoulder as he gestured to the young man in the back. Their eyes met for a single instant. "That young man, he will be doing most of the work?" she asked. Mott nodded. "I'd like to meet him."

Gendry had looked up from his work for a moment—less than a second at the woman standing in the front of Mott's shop. It was the crown that caught his eye. Out of all the polished, shiny surfaces of metal in the shop, the gold from the circlet she wore at her brow caught the sunlight. That's what distracted him. _'A highborn lady,'_ he thought, fighting to not roll his eyes. _'A highborn lady that liked to visit the slums and the working people.'_

He looked back down at the shoulder piece he was working on. No matter how many times he had done this, he always made the curve too sharp the first time. Cursing under his breath, he took up his hammer. But again, he was distracted. His eyes darted upward again and fell upon the sword that the lady was carrying at her hip. It was curious to him. He had never known a highborn lady to carry a sword.

Now fully sidetracked, he looked her over as she was talking to Mott with the Kingslayer at her side. A sick sense of disgust filled his stomach imagining her to be the next Lady of Casterly Rock. A woman that carried a sword didn't belong with a man that would make her bend to his will.

Gendry stared at her curiously. She obviously wasn't from Westeros. She had a wild, exotic air about her and looking at her was like looking at something ethereal. Her arms were defined and her shoulders looked strong and adorned with what he assumed were some type of skin colored tattoos in elegant whirling patterns flowing down her arms. She was mysterious and fit and possessed this otherworldly light that made her skin glow. With her dress and a sword at her side, he had never seen anything like her. Not in this city of cheats and thieves. But he knew it didn't matter one ounce to him. He would never touch this woman; _could_ never touch this woman.

But there was still a visceral reaction in him that made him want to. He wondered if she had ever had the opportunity to use her sword or if it was merely for decoration. Something about her made him think that it was the former.

Mott was talking to her when her attention turned to him. His gut tightened. She had caught him watching her. He turned away and no sooner had he picked up his hammer to keep working when he heard Mott yell for him.

"Gendry! Put down the hammer, boy. The lady wants a look at you."

Gendry sighed and let his shoulders slump as he let the hammer fall to the worktable. He barely looked up as he moved into the open entryway off the shop. His eyes kept darting back and forth across the floor worried that maybe the woman had taken offense to his staring.

He stopped when he felt that he was standing beside Mott. He glanced up quickly between the Kingslayer and the woman before returning his eyes to the ground. "Yes, m'lady?" he asked, flustered. He felt the muscle in his jaw tighten.

Mott brought a hand up to hit him in the back of the head. He didn't flinch. Mott hit him in the back of the head at least once a week. "She is a queen, boy!" Mott growled. "Show respect!"

The muscle in Gendry's jaw tightened again and he felt his face harden as he continued to stare at the ground. He had been staring at the foreign queen everyone had been gossiping about. He never expected to catch a glimpse of her, let alone see her in Mott's shop. Queen's don't often frequent armorers in King's Landing. He swallowed a lump in his throat, preparing an apology when she spoke first.

"What's your name?" she asked. Not harshly. Not even as though she were angry or offended.

"Gendry, Your Grace." He almost tripped over his words, but he couldn't bear embarrassing himself further in front of her.

"Look at me," she ordered. He did. Uncertainly. His eyes slowly drifted upward until he found her face. The queen's eyes, he saw, were blue like his. Except where his were cold ice, hers were like a warm blue summer sky with flecks of gold.

When she was satisfied that she had his full attention, she crossed her arms over her chest beneath her breasts and looked him over head to toe once more. "You're an apprentice?" she asked with slight amusement. He could only be a few years younger than she was. If Tobho Mott was trusting him with the Valyrian steel, he must be near master level.

"Yes," Gendry responded almost defiantly.

"Weapons or armor?"

"Both." Gendry began to mirror her posture, crossing his arms across his expansive chest.

"Are you good?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"What type of metal do you work with?" she asked, glancing around the shop for any silver or gold working.

"Mostly iron and steel. I like steel better."

"Not iron?"

"Steel is harder. It holds an edge better."

"Iron has a lower melting point and casts more fluidly. Steel is more demanding," she argued, hoping he would argue back.

"I like the challenge," he replied with the confidence of a man in his element. She allowed herself a small smile before she fought to control her facial expressions again. She had hoped he would be a little stubborn.

"Who is your family?" she continued.

"Haven't got a family. I was born a bastard and my mother is dead."

"An apprenticeship is expensive. How do you afford it?"

"I don't. Mott lets me apprentice for nothing."

She glanced away from the young man to his mentor, doubting that the old man had taken on an apprentice with no family for nothing. "Your father?"

Gendry shrugged. "Never met him. Never knew his name."

"Where do you stay?"

"Upstairs. I watch over the shop. Open up in the mornings. Light the fires."

"With others?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just me. The others have families."

"Do you like it here?"

"I learn my trade. I get fed. That's really all I need."

Aero pursed her lips and studied the young man with unabashed eyes. He surprised her. Once he met her eyes, he took on this unapologetic, uncultivated dignity that excited her. If she was to train in Valyrian steel alongside someone, she was relieved that it would be him.

"I would like to watch you work," she said after a long moment.

Gendry was staggered that the queen would have even a rudimentary understanding of how iron worked. From her questions, he suspected that she knew a great deal more. He nodded his consent and invited her to follow him.

The entryway to the shop caught a breeze every now and then when the doors were open, but in the back with the hearth burning, the open windows did nothing to alleviate the heat.

"Show her some of your work, boy," Mott barked. The old man turned back to her, his tone changing in that second. "He does fine work. Best in the city, after me of course." Mott smiled his crooked smile, baring his yellowed, stained teeth.

Gendry thought for a moment wishing that his bull's head helmet hadn't been stolen and decided to pull a sword from a rack behind his work table. He had just finished it for the lord of House Byrch. Gently, he handed it grip first to the young queen who lifted it easily though it was made for a man twice her weight. He watched her as she let her fingers trace the fuller down the length of the green tinted blade. Lord Balman had wanted twin axes engraved at the sword's shoulder just under the smoky grey guard. She examined his engravings for a moment before she took the blade and rested it across her left forearm, looking down the length for imperfections. He smirked. There were no imperfections. Not when he was done. Satisfied with the blade, she twisted the sword in a series of movements he had only seen from experienced swordsmen. The others stepped back, but he stood his ground.

Aero cut the air around her so fluidly that the ash particles floating in the air were hardly disturbed. "This is exceptional work," she affirmed, handing the sword back to Gendry with the grip in one hand and the blade supported by the other. He took it, not knowing how to say thank you to someone like her.

Jaime had been standing off to the side watching Aero interact with the shop owner and his apprentice. She was impressive in the way she commanded attention without realizing it and how she spoke as easily with the boy as she did with Mott—the way she did with him. She was kind, he realized, not just to those she thought in her class, but to everyone. He thought back to Loras' tale of how Aero had healed one of Littlefinger's whores. All his life, his father had told him that kindness is weakness. Looking at Aero, he had never known his father to be more wrong.

While Jaime questioned Mott about the steel tinting process, Aero took the opportunity to pull Gendry away from the two men. She gave him a small smile and inclined her head toward his worktable where he had been working on the armored shoulder piece.

He followed her the few steps over to his work table and watched her pick up the piece he had been scowling over earlier. "Not wide enough?" she asked, her palm running along the unfinished curve of the steel.

He shook his head. "The shoulders and the thighs are always the hardest for me. I make the curve too sharp the first heating. I get it right on the second."

She turned the steel over in her hands. "You're getting too focused on making a fluid curve," she determined. "You can always go back and round it out when you refinish the edges."

"How do you…" Gendry tried to make sense out of what was happening, but it was just too ridiculous to even consider. Queens aren't blacksmiths. Of course earlier he made the mistake of thinking that queen don't frequent blacksmith shops. Clearly, he was wrong.

"I have the other shoulder plate heating," he smiled.

She returned his smile and nodded. Gendry pulled a pair of tongs from the various hooks bored into the side of his work table and he came back from the hearth with a glowing plate of steel.

It didn't take long for him to get lost in the work. He constantly aware of her presence beside him, watching him, but he carried on as he would have if she were not there. He had to work quickly to shape the metal before the steel cooled. Part muscle memory and part concentration, he curled the metal around the anvil head this time focusing less on how controlled the curved edge seemed and more on the width.

He could feel her long hair tickle his left arm as she leaned in closer to watch. He almost had it. It was almost perfect. But when he brought his hammer down to finish out the last few blows he needed to curve the metal just right, a spark spat out from the still red hot plate.

Aero didn't react to the spark initially. She was used to stray sparks. But when it seared through the thick black silk of her dress and burned into her upper thigh, she let out a small gasp. Before she had time to react to the familiar sting of another minor burn, she felt an arm curl around her waist and hauled her back from the table. Her first thought was Jaime had pulled her away, but then she saw Gendry grab a damp rag from the table and kneel down in front of her furiously dabbing at the singed fabric.

As quickly as he had seen the young smith grab Aero, Jaime had pulled his sword and pointed it at Gendry. "Take your hands off her!" Jaime demanded with a sneer at the boy still on his knees.

Gendry seemed to suddenly realize that his hands were splayed across the queen's hip and upper thigh while he was trying to douse the spark and the fabric that had been smoldering out into larger hole. "I- I'm sorry," he stuttered with wide eyes and, jerked his hands away like _he_ had been burned. "I wasn't thinking, Your Grace."

"It's fine!" Aero held her palm out to stop Jaime from advancing on Gendry. "He was only trying to keep me from burning myself!"

"Wearing a dress to a forge, I should know better," she muttered to herself. "It's my own damn fault." She shook her head at her own foolishness. "It's fine," she said, softer this time because it was directed at Gendry. He was still kneeling in front of her, wet rag in hand and his eyes back down at the floor. Aero bent down to grasp hold of Gendry's forearms and pulled him to his feet.

He stood but didn't pull away, thinking it might be rude. He let her hold onto his arms until she wanted to let go. But she didn't let go. The way she was gripping his forearms—just below the crook of his elbow—had her elbows resting in his palms. She squeezed his arms tighter causing impressions in his skin with her fingertips. Curiosity made him look up at her.

"Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness," he breathed, meeting her eyes.

She laughed lightly and finally let go of his arms to rest her hand on his shoulder. "My name is Aero," she smiled. "And I assure you, there's no reason for you to apologize for my stupidity."

She turned away to find a stool and dragged it a few feet away from Gendry's work table. The men watched her interestedly when she sat down and crossed her legs, letting her hands lay in her lap. "If I promise to stay put and not make any more trouble, will you let me watch you work for a while?" she requested of the young smith.

"You're welcome to observe as long as you like, Your Grace," Mott interjected.

She smiled politely at the old man and turned back to Gendry.

"Is that okay with you?" she asked again.

Brought out of his stunned silence, Gendry nodded. "Yeah. I'm just working with armor for today." He risked a glance at Mott before returning to her. "Unless you would like to see something different?"

Aero shook her head. "No. Go on with what you were doing. I've never had much patience with making armor. Maybe you could change my mind."

"You shouldn't let him grab you like that. It's not appropriate," Jaime chastised in hushed tones while Gendry busied himself reheating the shoulder pieces.

"And you would tell me what I should and should not do?" Aero asked without bothering to look up at him. He was standing next to her eyeing the young blacksmith carefully.

Jaime frowned. "I just mean that he's a blacksmith and he had his hands all over you."

"I'm a blacksmith," she argued.

"You're a queen. He's a bastard."

Gendry looked over his shoulder and she smiled at him reassuringly before setting her face back into a scowl at Jaime's words.

"And being a knight is more honorable than being a bastard, is it?" She squared her shoulders and straightened her back, determined not to look at him.

He gently let his hand rest on her shoulder. "He shouldn't have touched you."

"Perhaps you shouldn't touch me either," she hissed.

Jaime frowned and pulled his hand away, hurt. "As you wish."

They watched Gendry work, Jaime in silence while Aero often asked Gendry questions as he labored. She watched his clever hands closely. When he was in his element, he never fumbled. He was confident in his abilities and he moved fluidly through the steps without stumbling. She had never been very good at making armor. It didn't interest her all that much, opting not to wear armor herself. She felt that it slowed her down.

* * *

They had spent the better part of the day at Mott's watching Gendry. The heat was almost unbearable in the forge. Jaime had pulled at his armor and his long tunic more than once, feeling the sweat roll down his back. He was grateful to be back out in the air.

They were halfway to the Red Keep and Aero had yet to speak to him. She smiled at others when they looked at her and she greeted people. With Jaime, however, she was distant and refused to take his arm when he offered it to her.

"I'm sorry I offended you," he apologized as they drew closer to the gates of the Keep. She remained silent, eyes forward, focused. He didn't think it was in her nature to disregard a genuine apology so he tried again. "I'm sorry I offended the boy."

"Gendry," she snapped, correcting him for the second time that day.

Jaime squinted up into setting sun. "Right. Gendry. I shouldn't have called him a bastard."

"He is a bastard," she stated simply, the bite taken out of her tone.

"But I thought…" Jaime narrowed his eyebrows and looked at her quizzically. "I'm not sure why you're angry with me."

She turned on him, stopping dead in the middle of the thankfully empty backstreet she had taken them down.

"He was born a bastard. So what?" She threw her hands up, exasperated. Does that mean his life—his name—is less important? Is he supposed to apologize for being born a bastard when he had no part in it?" She let her hands fall to her sides with a sigh. "You can't be bothered to imagine that someone like him could be worth getting to know. That is why I'm angry, Jaime Lannister. You've been poisoned into believing that anyone below you is beneath your regard." She gave him a sorrowful look that seemed to him more like pity than annoyance before turned back and continued making her way to the looming Keep.

"You're right," he called out, jogging to catch up with her. His armor clanged together slightly as he ran. He reached her side and pulled lightly at her arm so that she would stop to look at him. She struggled to get out of his grasp, though she didn't put that much effort into it. He held tight to her upper arms so that he made sure she was looking at him.

"You know who my father is," he started. "I've grown up being told that people were made to be used and thrown away. It's not something to be proud of." His thin lips turned downward and his eyebrows drew together at the memories of his childhood with Tywin. "It's not what I believe. But I saw you get tossed out of the way as easily as if you were a doll and my instinct was to protect you. Because that _is_ what I believe. I don't know this boy—Gendry," he corrected himself. "I don't know his intentions. I just know that I don't want you getting hurt."

The pads of his thumbs drew soft circles near the end of her collarbone and it made her soften. She knew Jaime was trying to become a better man. But she couldn't expect him to change overnight. "He wouldn't hurt me."

"I don't know that."

She shrugged her shoulders and pulled his hands away from her arms. "I know he wouldn't," she stated with complete confidence. She slipped her hand in the bend of his elbow like they had walked before and she urged him forward with a small tug. He was content to let her lead.

"I'm going back tomorrow," she said after they had walked a little farther. "I want to train with Valyrian steel and this might well be my only chance."

"I'll come with you," he was quick to volunteer.

She shook her head. "No. I know my way now. And if it makes you feel better, I'll have Evann walk with me. But I wouldn't be able to get any work done with you hovering and worrying."

The side of his mouth turned up into a smirk. "And if I insisted?"

"Insist all you'd like. You can ask Evann, my father, or any one of my three brothers how well that has worked out for them," she laughed.

They passed through the first gate at the base of the Keep and Jaime watched Aero greet a small boy he didn't recognize that was chasing after a loose ball. Aero stopped the ball with her foot and bent down to pick it up. The boy hesitated approaching them and looked back at his group of friends that were looking on with the same cautious expressions. She pulled away from Jaime and kneeled down to the boy's height holding out the ball for him. The boy looked at the ball and back up at the queen. But then she smiled at the boy and his doubt seemed to vanish. He smiled back with a couple of teeth missing and playfully snatched the ball from her hand before running back to his friends.

Jaime purposely led her around the Keep corridors he knew would most likely be deserted trying to stretch out his time with her. _'She must know,'_ he thought to himself. But if she did, she graciously kept it to herself. They had reached a part of the Keep where no one had bothered to light the torches and the only light came from the fading light seeping in through the western windows.

"I have to ask you something," he mused, slowing his pace. They were nearing her chambers but he hadn't had the nerve to ask her what he wanted before then.

"Okay?"

"Why did you give me back my hand? I've done nothing to deserve your kindness."

She smiled to herself expecting she would have to answer that question at some point. But it wouldn't be this day.

"Maybe I will tell you someday," she replied coyly. "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe a week from now. Maybe when you are old and fat and happy living somewhere peaceful, you will happen upon a letter I have left for you."

He felt himself smile at her evasion. "You don't think I'll be here fighting and dying in another man's war?"

She shook her head and looked up at him. "No. You will die an old man far away from here."

Jaime was taken aback at her matter-of-fact tone. He had considered leaving King's Landing a few times over the years. King's Landing, though, that was all that he had known for almost all of his adult life. He expected to die within the walls of the city either in battle or in defense of the king.

"Where will you be?" he asked unsure if she had meant that he would die in Eryatheia with her.

Aero's smile faltered and she hesitated answering him. "I will be gone," she breathed, relieved that she could finally tell someone this burden that had been weighing on her. "My time is short."

Concerned, Jaime asked "Are you ill?" just as they reached the door to her chambers.

She pushed the door open and allowed him to step into the room after her. Someone had been thoughtful enough to build a fire in the hearth. "No. I don't believe so. It's just something I know."

Jaime closed the door behind him and shook his head at her. "You can't possibly know that."

"I feel it." She said it with such certainty, he didn't refute her again.

She moved to stand next to the fire watching the flames dance though it was a warm night. He supposed she found comfort in the way flames made the light flicker as he did. "I can't tell Evann," she continued. "He would call me an idiot and tell me I'm being stupid. I can't tell my father or my brothers. They've always been uneasy when it came to my abilities to use magic. I don't know what they would say if I told them I could feel my own impending death."

"Then why tell me?"

"Maybe I will tell you someday…" She smiled sadly and pulled her attention away from the fire to look up at him. "I've known for a while. Felt it coming for a while. Like watching the sun set and sky grow darker. I trust you wouldn't betray my confidences."

Her arms drew close around her as if she were cold and they shared a moment together where he grasped that she was trusting him with something so intimate she hadn't even told those closest to her.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded. "I will keep your secret."

"Would it be a horrible insult to take my dinner in my room tonight?" she asked suddenly feeling conscientious at being so open with another person that wasn't Evann or her family.

"Not at all," he replied. "I'll make sure someone brings it up for you."

"Thank you."

He began to edge out of the room as she was taking off her shoes, but he stopped at the door and leaned back in the doorway. "Mott's tomorrow. There's no way I could get you to change your mind?"

She laughed at his persistence. "Not at all." She kicked off her other shoe and met him in the doorway.

"You'll carry your sword?" He lifted his hand as though he was about to touch her face, but thought better of it. Instead, he touched a loose curl and brushed it behind her shoulder.

Looking at the ground instead of his face, Aero could feel that his concern for her was genuine and it touched her that he cared for her though he barely knew her. She looked up to meet his eyes again. "Always," she promised.

* * *

She didn't expect any visitors that night. Already she had stripped away her dress, the small singed hole in the thigh beyond repair, and pulled on her nightshirt. Dinner was brought to her room and the same maid came back to retrieve the tray when she was finished. She looked out over the bay to see that her ship was still docked. The ship's captain, Derrian, was probably waiting for the last few men to come aboard before he moved the ship out into the bay as he refused to remain docked overnight. Noting that nothing looked out of the ordinary, she sat and propped her feet up on what she was sure was a very expensive writing desk. She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned back to read over the letter she had written to her father when there was a knock at her door.

Jaime, never a man known for his patience, pushed his way into the young queen's chambers even before he heard her call "Enter!"

He saw her jump in surprise, the long legs that had been carelessly tossed over her desk jerked back as she made to stand.

Flustered, she ran a hand through her hair and pulled at the hemline of her nightshirt. "Forgive my nakedness, Ser Jaime," she implored. "I thought you might have been Lady Margaery."

Jaime's throat closed for moment before he was able to speak, trying to push back the filthy thoughts running through his mind. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I've brought you a gift!"

His mouth broke into a wide grin as he pulled something from behind the door—not something, someone.

Aero's eyes moved curiously from Jaime to the blond girl that he had pulled into her room. "You've brought me a person," she countered, still perplexed.

Jaime closed the door so that they wouldn't be overheard. There was no doubt that someone would be watching the comings and goings of the young queen's chambers to report back to whomever they served.

Jaime pushed the scared blond girl farther into the room. "I've brought you a handmaiden," he explained. "Lord Varys and his spies tell me that this is the young woman you healed at Littlefinger's brothel."

Aero recognized the girl as the one she had healed the day before. Her uncommonly beautiful face was thankfully free of any more bruises and her long blonde hair was tucked in a braided up-do at the back of her head. Aero nodded. "It is. Bet, are you well?"

The girl dipped into a small curtsey keeping her eyes downcast as Gendry had. "Very well, Your Grace, thank you."

Aero wanted to reach out and reassure Bet that she was okay, but she still didn't quite understand what was going on. "Does Lord Baelish know?"

Jaime shrugged. "I suggested that it would be in his best interest to stay on your good side."

Aero quirked an eyebrow. "Suggested?"

"Strongly suggested," he admitted, patting his sword. "I know you're still getting used to our ways, but it is customary that highborn women have a handmaiden."

"To do what?"

Jaime's face screwed up in frustration. He didn't understand how she could be so damn maddening when she didn't mean to be. "Help them. With things. Like helping you dress, helping you bathe, emptying your chamber pot."

There had plenty of staff working in the castle, but Aero had never had a handmaiden. She didn't recall her mother having one either. She can't recall anyone taking a personal servant except visiting nobles from other lands. Aero considered Bet for a moment, weighing the options.

"If you'd rather not have me, I can go back," Bet choked meekly, holding back tears. She hadn't asked to be brought to the queen. The Kingslayer had found her and though he had been nothing but nice to her, she still didn't fully trust him. She didn't trust anyone that promised her better things. Hope didn't exist in King's Landing anymore. Not for her.

Bet made as if to leave and Jaime quickly reached to pull her back, pushing her in front of Aero. "As your handmaiden, she will live in the room across from you," Jaime explained carefully. "She will never go hungry. Never need to sell herself. She will be safe. Here. With you." Aero looked from Jaime to Bet and back to Jaime, her heart tightening in her chest. "…It's a better life," he breathed, locking eyes with Aero so that she might understand.

"Yes," Aero nodded, reaching out for the girl. "Yes, of course, I'll take you, Bet." She pulled the girl to her and wrapped her in a hug. No longer able to hold back tears, Bet let the streams pour down her face as Aero kissed her and let her rest her forehead in the crook of Aero's neck. "Shhh," Aero soothed, petting the girl's hair. "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."

Jaime backed out of the room, giving them privacy. "Goodnight, Your Grace," he said gently, then, remembering all that they had shared today, he corrected himself once more. "…Aero."

"Goodnight, Jaime," she replied with a soft smile.

* * *

AN: I keep going back and forth between trying to make smaller chapters to update quicker, but then they turn into monsters like this one. And at the request of a couple of people, I'm considering turning this into an M rated fic. I can't decide if I'm pro or anti smut in my own fiction, but if you have an opinion either way, let me know. Regardless, this is going to be a slow burn.


	6. The Vysrane Sisters

Bet twisted quietly in her sleep, waking Aero. The young girl had been so emotionally exhausted the night before that Aero had held the poor girl and let her cry. At some point, she had cried herself to sleep. Aero thought nothing of it, extinguishing the candles and pulling the covers over them both.

Aero turned now facing Bet. She had never had another girl sleep in her bed. Even when she was young and her father tried to encourage her to befriend courtier's daughters, she was kind to them, but she never found a friendship in them like she had found with Evann.

A pang of hurt shot through her chest remembering the girl's sobs. She had not led an easy life—something Aero often took for granted. Holding Bet, she felt pain and loss and distrust in the girl's past. It wasn't terribly surprising since Jaime had rescued her from Lord Baelish's brothel.

Aero studied the girl's face. Technically, she was a woman already—around seventeen or eighteen. And Aero was ashamed at how enviously she stared at Bet's face. Her skin was like flawless marble and she had soft, delicate features that Aero had longed for growing up. Strikingly beautiful with honey-colored eyes and long blond hair that didn't seem to tangle in the night as Aero's did.

It was earlier than Aero normally woke. The sky was a deep red where the sun was just barely beginning to peak over the horizon. Even from the tower where she stayed, she could hear the sounds of the merchants in the city below beginning to start their days. If she were at home, Evann would have already dragged her from the bed and she would be lighting the furnaces in her forge.

She sat up suddenly remembering that she was to go to Mott's today to begin working with the old man and his apprentice. The sudden jerk made Bet's long eyelashes flutter for a moment but she did not stir.

Quietly and carefully disentangling herself from the bedclothes, she slid from the bed and padded across the room to open her chamber door. Two of the ladies she remembered from the day before stood at the head of the corridor giggling to themselves and waiting anxiously, it seemed, for something or someone to come along.

"Excuse me," she called out softly so as not to wake Bet.

The girls straightened immediately, alarmed that they had been caught.

"May I have water for a bath? Or whom would I need to ask?"

The older of the two bowed slightly and responded "We'll take care of it, Your Grace. Lady Margaery has left us at your disposal again this morning, if you wish it."

"I only need bathing water, but you are appreciated, nonetheless."

"Would you like rosemary to be added to the water again?" the younger girl asked.

Aero thought for a moment. She wasn't tired or sore, but she could do with a little refreshing. Jasmine baths were always her favorite. "Not rosemary. Jasmine blossoms, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"None at all, Your Grace." The older girl bowed again and the younger followed, backing away out of the corridor.

Aero slipped back into the room leaving the door open so that the women could come in to fill her bath. In the absence of Aero's warmth, Bet had curled into the pillow that had been haphazardly tossed amongst the bedding. The image made Aero smile and she felt her heart give a little jolt thinking how quickly the young girl became someone she cared for. It still took her by surprise how some friendships fall together. Like the easy friendship she had with Evann. And the friendship she was beginning with Jaime. She wasn't entirely sure how or why they seemed to fit together, but they did.

Bet had cried herself to sleep in Aero's arms the night before. Whether it was out of sadness, relief, or exhaustion, Aero couldn't tell. She only knew that Bet belonged to her now. Not as a servant, but as a friend—a sister. Someone she would protect.

Aero lazily extended her arms over her head, stretching her muscles and bent to touch her toes. Margaery's ladies filtered in and out quietly filling the tub basin with steaming water and ground up jasmine blossoms.

Bet began to stir at the many footsteps of the ladies coming in and out. She sat up quickly in her unfamiliar surroundings and pulled the bed cover up to her chin. Recognizing Aero and remembering the night before, she composed herself and stood at the end of the bed in her thin rumpled dress that she had worn as she left the brothel. All of her belongings were contained in a single small bag that Aero had put on the table next to the fireplace.

She waited dutifully for the women to finish filling Aero's bath and she closed the door behind them.

Aero smiled kindly at her and tested the temperature of the flower water with her fingers. Single minded, Bet approached Aero to help her undress for her bath as she had done countless times before with the "companions" at the brothel. Without thinking to ask permission, Bet began to loosen the strings at the front of Aero's nightshirt. Her deft fingers were quick and thorough, stopping only when Aero reached up to stay her hands.

"You don't have to help me undress," Aero said, catching Bet's eyes. Truthfully, she was a little offput. She had not had anyone help her bathe since she was very young.

"I don't mind," Bet shrugged, returning to unlacing the ties at the front of the shirt that Aero would normally have pulled over her head.

Bet pushed the shirt from Aero's shoulders and folded it before setting it in a nearby chair. Aero sank down into the tub enjoying the way the steaming water made her skin tingle. She rested against the side of the basin and closed her eyes.

Aero heard Bet moving around behind her, but was still very much surprised when Bet gently nudged her forward so that Bet could sit on the basin's shelf behind Aero's head. Bet let her feet and lower limbs sink into the hot water and dipped a sponge in beside Aero. Lathering the sponge with soap, Bet pulled Aero's hair to the side and began to wash Aero's back and shoulders focusing on trying not to make the young queen angry for any reason. Thus far, Aero had been nothing but nice to her. Bet hoped that the queen's kindness wasn't conditional.

Aero allowed Bet to bathe her and wash her hair, obviously very skilled in caring for others' hygiene.

"Is this… Did one of your clients request baths often?" Aero began hesitantly hoping she wouldn't insult the girl. "You seem very capable."

Bet was rinsing the softening oils from Aero's hair with a small cup. "I never actually had clients," Bet responded clearing her throat. "I worked in the brothel, but I was only a serving maid." Bet used her fingers to comb through Aero's long black hair. "It paid next to nothing. The other girls that sold their bodies were paid much better, but I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"The bruise?" Aero asked.

Bet sighed and rolled Aero's hair to twist out excess water and pinned it up to keep it out of the tub. "The bruise was from a drunken man that hit me because I refused him." Aero turned in the water to look at Bet as she was speaking. "I didn't want to sell myself and Lord Baelish let me earn money by helping to take care of the women and the cleaning. He's not a terrible man, Lord Baelish. Cunning and conniving; but not terrible."

"What were you before you went to work for Lord Baelish?"

Bet looked down at her feet dangling in the water. "I was training to be a singer. My father was a musician. I was born a bastard, but he raised me. He was killed by a man in a tavern one night."

"Your mother?"

Bet shook her head. "My mother was a handmaiden for Princes Elia. She was killed when the castle was taken by the Lannisters."

Aero reached up to take Bet's hands from where they were fidgeting. "I'm sorry about your parents."

Bet shrugged and looked away, but Aero brought her attention back with a simple gesture of cupping the girl's cheek gently. The gesture was easy, but Bet found it comforting.

Aero stood from the bath and reached for a towel as the small water droplets trickled down her body.

Bet stared unintentionally at Aero's body, letting her eyes wander from the queen's neck to her feet and back up again following the patterns that looked like they were traced into her body.

"Can I ask," Bet started before she shook her head and added "No. Nevermind."

"You can ask anything," Aero responded, patting herself dry.

"Are they scars?" the girl asked, indicating the whorls that spanned Aero's body.

"Markings," Aero clarified. "From when the phoenix blessed me."

Bet pulled her feet from the water and moved to take the towel from Aero to finish drying her back. "Do the markings do anything? Is that why you're magic?"

Aero shrugged and looked down her arms at the patterns. "I don't think so? All the Blessed Ones are marked, but with the ivory phoenix, who knows? I may find out what they mean eventually." Bet touches them, running the cloth along the markings just beneath the skin. As she was drying Aero's back, Bet traced one of the markings on Aero's shoulder. Glancing at Aero, the markings were hardly noticeable. A few shades lighter than her normal skin color, they blended when looking at the queen from a distance, but up close, the swirling lines were hard to miss. "They're beautiful," Bet murmured.

Bet lounged in the bath as Aero was getting dressed. A serving girl is never supposed to use the bath water of a queen, but Aero insisted. Baths were a luxury that lowborns did not have. Even with the women of Lord Baelish's brothel, Bet helped them bathe using a sponge and a basin of mildly warm water. Lazing in warm water up to her chin was a luxury like Bet had never experienced before.

Aero was tugging on a pair of fitted black trousers that she suspected she might have to relinquish soon if she grew any more. She tied the string at the back with no trouble, having tied it many times without help. She wondered at how her life might change if she had a personal handmaiden, but quickly dismissed the idea. Having household staff and having a personal servant were completely different as far as she was concerned.

"Bet, what will you do when I am gone?" Aero asked, digging through a stack of previously folded shirts until she found the one she wanted.

"Return to Lord Baelish's, I suppose," Bet responded with a sigh, still lounging in the bath.

"Would you want to come to come home with me? To Eryatheia?" It was an easy thing for Aero to ask. It wasn't a question that she spent a long time pondering. If she could offer this girl a better life in Eryatheia, why wouldn't she ask? Certainly anything had to be better than working in a brothel for next to no pay.

Bet sat up in the water and turned to Aero with wide eyes. "Is that… Would you want that?" she asked uncertainly.

"I would." Aero nodded and pulled the loose linen shirt over her head, tucking it in around the low waist of her trousers. "You wouldn't have to be a handmaiden. You could be a singer. Or whatever you like. I would accept you as a ward of my house and you would be my family."

Bet shook her head and brought her knees up to her chest. "I… This can't be real. This doesn't happen to people."

Barefoot, Aero moved to sit at the edge of the steps leading up to the tub basin. She pet Bet's hair whispered reassurances. "I'm not sure that I can let myself believe you. Good things don't happen to me," Bet responded, sinking farther down into water.

Aero took her by the arms and lifted the girl up to face her. She made Bet look at her, her face solid and serious. "Bet. Leave this place and come to Eryatheia with me. You will have a room and you will meet my idiot brothers and you will have a family."

Bet nodded her acceptance but said nothing as Aero kissed her on the forehead. She was still too shocked to believe the young queen, but she allowed herself to dream that it could be true.

Aero stood and began looking for her boots as Bet slipped softly into a song. It was one her father used to sing—a story of how the sun married the earth and danced together among the stars. It was slow and sweet and reminded Bet of happier times. Maybe she could be happy again.

Evann made his way up to the keep, taking his time. The sun had just began to peek over the bay, casting the city in a warm red light. Aero wasn't likely to be up for a while yet. He ambled through the marketplace with no particular purpose in mind other than picking up breakfast for Aero and making his way toward the Red Keep. Merchant's daughters fanned their eyelashes at him as he looked over their wares. He was kind to them though none of them particularly caught his eye. Remembering his mother's parting words, Evann chuckled to himself. "Bring home a wife," she had said. ' _Unlikely_ ,' he thought. After all, when would he find the time to meet women when he was busy keeping Aero out of trouble.

So far things had been relatively quiet, but he had a gut feeling that it wouldn't stay that way. He watched the shadows, looking for threats and felt constantly on edge. He didn't trust Jaime Lannister in the least. Countless times she had told him "Don't worry. I'll be fine." But he didn't trust anyone. Not here. Not when it came to the safety of his best friend.

"Were you looking for anything in particular?" asked a young woman as he surveyed a variety of fruit. The apples were looking poor, but the pears looked fresh enough.

"Two pears, please." He smiled at the girl and held out a couple of coins. She took the money as he picked two from the bunch and shoved them in his pockets.

Like the morning before, he was stopped every now and again once he made it through the gates of the Keep. The farther into the castle, the more guards he saw. Some recognized him. Most didn't. Aero had made him a golden signet ring with the official Vysrane seal that allowed him to move freely about the Keep as a member of her House. He suspected that she had spelled it with wards, though she had been suspiciously indirect when he asked her.

Turning down the corridor to Aero's chamber, he passed two familiar young women he remembered from the day before giggling to themselves at the sight of him. He inclined his head toward them in a lazy bow. "Ladies," he acknowledged.

The women stopped giggling long enough to curtsey to him before dissolving into a fit of laughter again. He kept moving, letting them fall behind him in the corridor and thought how strange it was to be curtsied to. He thought that perhaps they assumed he was some kind of lord. How disappointed they would be if they knew he spent most days digging in the dirt.

He drew closer to Aero's door and was surprised to hear music coming from her chamber. Not music, he corrected himself. Singing. He shook his head and pushed the door open assuming it was Aero. He would sometimes catch her singing to herself when she thought no one was around or when she was in her forge and she was working in a rhythm. It was almost an afterthought to her and while she was pleasant enough to listen to, it was one of the things that made her self-conscious when he teased her about it. She would blush deeply at being caught humming while doing chores. Then he would have to watch for objects flying at his head. She has unfortunately exceptional aim.

"Who the hell is singing?" he called into the room, closing the door behind him. "I know it's not you because it actually sounds nice." He enjoyed teasing her perhaps a little too much.

The singing stopped immediately and he heard a squeak from near the bed where the bathing basin stood. The blond girl in the tub squeaked and quickly moved to cover herself. He felt his cheeks blaze hot, stuttering an apology and turned his back to her.

"For-Forgive me, my lady. I was looking for Queen Aero." His fists clenched at his side and shook his head, his hair falling around his face. The girl had been quick to cover herself so that he hadn't seen anything he shouldn't. At the moment, he couldn't say if this relieved or disappointed him.

The familiar echo of Aero's thick boots sounded across the floor and he felt rather than saw her smirk at his back. He cringed. He was never going to be able to live this down.

"Queen Aero is it?" she asked. As he suspected when he turned back to the women, Aero had her arms crossed beneath her breasts with her sword on her hip and a ridiculous smirk plastered across her face. Bet had brought her knees up to her chest to cover herself though she was mostly hidden by the tall sides of the bathing tub.

Evann smiled sheepishly and rubbed at the back of his neck. "How am I supposed to know who calls you what?" His attention moved to the girl in the tub. He sucked in a breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Aero," he corrected, speaking to the blond girl. "I'm looking for my stubborn, bull-headed, best friend Aero."

He looked back at Aero. "Does that make you happy?"

"Marvelously," she responded flatly with a raised eyebrow. "Now get out. Bet doesn't know you."

Evann shrugged. "Fine. But I'm waiting outside the door until you let me back in."

Aero mimicked his shrug. "Fine," she said nonchalantly and motioned to the door.

When they were alone and Evann was out of the room, Bet relaxed her knees away from her chest and dipped her head to rinse her hair. The sooner she had clothes on, the more secure she would feel. She was used to others nakedness, but was much more modest of her own. She had never been naked in front of a man before. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.

Bet lifted herself out of the water to sit at the shelf of the tub and used her hands to wring the liquid from her hair. "He's handsome. Is he your betrothed?" she asked as Aero handed her a towel.

Aero scoffed and led Bet to the vanity. She pushed Bet down into the chair and reached for her favorite wide comb from table. "No. No," she insisted, combing out Bet's beautiful blond hair. "Evann has been my best friend for…" She scrunched up her nose as she tried to calculate the years up in her head, but it was no use. Even in her first memories, she remembered Evann as a baby when Meleana would bring him to work with her. Aero peeked around her mother's skirts at the squalling pink thing wrapped up in blankets. She was afraid at first because she had never seen a baby up close. She hovered over him curiously, her blue eyes looking into his wrinkled up green ones. He looked up at her then. His wailing died immediately and he began to kick his little legs and laugh, a spit bubble forming at the side of his smile.

"Twenty years," Evann supplied from the other side of the door.

"He can hear us?!" asked Bet, mortified that he had heard her call him handsome. She pulled her towel tighter around her.

"Ears like a hawk!" called Evann, again from outside the door that Aero now saw he had left partly open.

"It's eyes like a hawk and ears like a fox you imbecilic shit-for-brains!" Aero stalked over and slammed the door the rest of the way shut.  
"And the strength of bear and the speed of a wildcat," Evann sang the old Eryatheian tavern song loudly to be heard through the now closed door.

Aero chuckled at him and shook her head. She wasn't angry with him, but even when she was, it was never for long. It was one of his many annoying personality traits.

True to his word, Evann waited patiently outside the door until he was called back in. As he always did, he shrugged the baldric holding his swords from his shoulders, kicked off his shoes and helped himself to Aero's bed. He leaned his back against the mighty wooden headboard and pulled one of the pears from his pocket as well as a small knife.

"What?" he asked when he looked up to find the two women staring at him. Though, the blond seemed more curious, Aero rolled her eyes.

"I'd like for you to meet Bet if you can fit it into your busy schedule of narcissism and annoyance." Aero gestured to the blond standing beside her who was now fully dressed in one of Aero's dresses if he wasn't mistaken.

"I suppose I have a few moments," he sighed in jest.

Aero looked around for something to throw at him, but nothing was within reach.

Evann set his swords aside and moved off the bed to greet the girl. Aero snatched the pear away from him and bit into it without any guilt at all. "My lady, Bet," he leaned forward in slight bow, taking her hand. He heard her take in a quick breath.

"I-I'm not a lady," she sputtered, looking to Aero for help.

"Actually," Aero interjected, with her mouth full. "Legally, you are."

Bet stared at the queen, forgetting that her hand was still being clasped by Evann.

"When I accepted you as a ward of the royal family—my family—you took on the title of Lady. It's been done several times over the years. Mostly by Vysrane women adopting children if they couldn't have any of their own. You will be adopted as my sister, but the idea is still the same. You'll be a Vysrane by name, but not by blood so the title isn't as regal, but it does have advantages. There will be a small ceremony, of course. You'll have to swear loyalty to Eryatheia since you were born in Westeros, but that's a minor detail. ...Why are you looking at me like that?"

There was a pause where Aero looked back and forth between the two, her best friend and her new sister. Both gaped at her with incredulous expressions.

"You did what?" Evann asked after the long silence. He let Bet's hand fall from his and he ran his palms over his face and dragged his fingers through his mass of hair that looked more like a lion's mane every day he refused to cut it.

He had been anxious enough when he only had to worry about Aero—and she was more than capable of protecting herself. But now there was this ridiculously stunning blonde goddess that had obviously never picked up a blade in her life to worry over as well. Aero never does anything halfway. He loved that about her and he hated it. Any one of a million things could happen to this girl and Aero would be crushed. He was so angry that Aero never seemed to think things through most of the time. She let her impulses run away with her and things like this happen.

"Oh, was I supposed to ask your opinion?" Aero shot bitterly, sensing his frustration with her.

"It would have been nice," he shot back. "Now I don't just have concern myself with your safety, you have to pull her into it, too?" He pointed at Bet and Bet backed away nervously.

"Who said you had to be concerned with anyone other than yourself, you sanctimonious asshole?"

"I'm the sanctimonious asshole?!" he shouted. "You're the one adopting people into the royal family and it's more likely to get her killed here than do her any good. And while you're off gallivanting at the blacksmith, who's protecting her?" He saw the look on Aero's face and knew he struck a chord. "I'm not stupid. I know you'll spend more time in that damn forge than you will anywhere else because it's you and what do you expect her to do? Wait for you here?"

"She can do as she pleases! She's a member of the Vysrane family now. No one would dare harm her."

Evann had to hold his fists at his side to keep from shaking her. "I think you're romanticizing the hospitality of the Lannisters. Were you paying attention in the lesson where we learned that Twyin had Elia's children murdered? Because I was. And now you think it's fun to cozy up to his son, the Kingslayer?"

Aero gritted her teeth at the use of Jaime's notorious moniker. "That is not what's happening, and you don't call him that."

"You didn't think I knew how close you were getting, did you?" Evann sneered. "I swear to the gods, Aero, if this gets her killed, I will never forgive you."

"Um. Excuse me." Bet cleared her throat and stepped between the two of them, pushing at Evann's chest to separate them. "If I'm a member of your family, does that mean I can visit the castle library?"

Confused, though thankful for the interruption Aero responded "Of course. You would be allowed anywhere, I would expect."

"It's just that I like to read and I don't imagine many murders happen in the library, right?"

Evann threw his hands in the air with a dramatic sigh. Aero shot him a look of victory.

Evann opened his mouth to say something, but was distracted by the sudden arrival of Jaime pushing open Aero's door with his sword drawn. Instinctively Evann reached over his shoulder to grab his swords only to remember that they were across the room on Aero's bed.

Jaime halted a few paces into the room and looked around, confused. "I heard shouting," he explained, realizing there was no danger.

"Ah. Jaime Lannister," Evann called out in a tone dripping with undisguised sarcasm. "We were just discussing you."

"Oh?" Jaime questioned, sheathing his sword. "In what context, may I ask?"

"You and A…" Evann hardly managed a few words before Aero elbowed him in the stomach.

"You," Aero countered quickly. "I was saying that I would consider it a great personal favor if you wouldn't mind escorting Bet to the library."

Jaime looked between them. They were obviously keeping something from him, but he felt confident enough in Aero's trust that if it were something he needed to know she would tell him. "I will do as you ask, of course," he replied. "I only stopped by to see if your decision to go to Mott's still stood."

Aero nodded. "Yes. Evann is walking with me and I have my sword. No one is going to harm me."

Jaime clasped his hands behind his back and walked around casually to stand beside Evann. He could barely sleep the night before thinking about what could potentially happen to her if she were caught unaware. King's Landing was not a place for a queen without a guard. If anyone could make her see sense, it would be the boy Evann. He hoped.

"Right. And does Evann know that the blacksmith boy grabbed you yesterday?"

Hearing his name, Evann's attention was drawn to Jaime as he spoke, but at Jaime's words, Evann's head snapped back to Aero with a look of shock that very quickly evolved into a dark glare. "She neglected to mention that."

Aero crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, you two need to stop this. I was too close and I didn't have an apron on. A spark seared through my dress and _Gendry_ ," she emphasized, "pulled me away and doused the spark with a rag."

"Once again, I argue that he shouldn't have touched you. Not because he's a bastard. Not because he's lowborn," Jaime said quickly and held up a hand to halt her from interrupting. "But because it's not proper for him to have his hands all over you regardless."

Evann let out a small "Hah!" as he gave Aero a once over with her boots, trousers, a shirt with a deep plunge neckline, and her sword. She wasn't wearing her usual golden circlet on her head. But at least she had taken the time wrap up her breasts. He saw that the light colored bindings around her chest were noticeable against her skin tone underneath the thin linen shirt. He shook his head. "Yeah. You're never going to win that one," he declared, speaking to Jaime. "Propriety isn't something Aero's all that good at."

She shrugged. "He's right. Proper has never really been my thing. And really, he was trying to help. His instinct told him to pull me away and make sure I was okay. If anything, can we agree that he at least had noble intentions?"

"I want to talk with this boy," Evan stated, unwilling to agree with her 'noble intentions' theory without meeting the boy first. He retrieved his swords from Aero's bed and slid his arms through the straps to position the baldric on his back.

She shrugged. "Fine. You're walking me to Mott's. You can meet him."

"Lead the way." Evann gestured to the door. "Your Grace," he added mockingly. She shot him a death glare that made him rethink walking within strike distance of her.

The others followed her out the door and Evann pulled the other pear from his pocket. Aero made conversation as Jaime led them through the many corridors. Evann peeled the extra pear with his small knife and handed it to Bet. She took it gratefully.

When they approached the hallway where Evann and Aero were meant to go left and Jaime and Bet were meant to go right, Jaime made to pull Aero aside.

"I don't have any right to ask," he admitted in hushed tones so that he wouldn't be overheard. "But it would make me happy if you promised to return safely."

His hand moved of its own volition to rest on her shoulder. And once again, Aero was struck at how genuinely concerned he seemed though he had barely known her for two days. She wondered if perhaps his need to keep her safe stemmed from the magic she had used to restore his hand. She had never used that depth of magic on a person before. Perhaps there were side effects she had yet to understand.

"I promise you that I will return safely, today and everyday thereafter so long as I am in King's Landing," she assure him.

Jaime breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That's all I needed to hear." He smiled and moved to turn away but Aero held him in place with a tug on his arm.

"I would ask another favor from you, Jaime."

"Anything."

She glanced over Jaime's shoulder at Evann standing awkwardly to the side and Bet blushing with her eyes cast to the floor. "Keep Bet safe," Aero requested. "You brought her to me and now I care about her. I don't imagine anything will happen to her so long as she's in the Keep. But it would make _me_ happy if I knew you were keeping an eye out for any harm that might come to her."

Jaime squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I will do whatever I can to keep her safe… For you," he added with a meaningful look that Aero didn't know how to take.

Instead of over analyzing, she beamed a smile at him. "That's all I needed to hear," she echoed back to him.

Evann and Aero argued most of the way to Mott's shop. Some about Bet. A little about Gendry. But mostly about Jaime Lannister.

"I'm telling you, he's trying to get into your bed," Evann insisted.

"And you can read his mind, can you?" Aero debated.

"What I'm reading, you senseless, naïve girl, is the way his eyes never stop watching you."

" _You_ never stop watching me!" She pushed at his shoulder for emphasis. "You all think I'm a silly little girl that can't take care myself. _'Be careful, Aero. We want you to be safe, Aero. Don't go anywhere alone, Aero,'_ " she mocked. "You treat me like I'm delicate, but you seem to forget that I'm a better swordsman than you."

"I don't have people trying to kill me!"

"Neither do I," she huffed.

"I suppose I should feel better that Jaime Lannister wants to haunt your bed chamber," he shrugged returning to their original argument. "At the very least he's another sword that's also concerned with your well-being."

Aero gave a very unladylike grunt and rolled her eyes. "He is not haunting my bed chamber. Maybe he feels some sort of misplaced loyalty for me returning his hand, but that's it."

"How would you know? The last time anyone showed interest you, you came to me asking if you should cut your hair because Lord Whatshisface with the bad breath kept trying to tuck stray strands behind your ear."

"Just because I've never held a man's interest for very long doesn't mean that I don't know when someone is flirting with me. He's not." Aero bit her lip reliving her teenage insecurities.

"Agree to disagree," Evann.

"Only if you agree to stop talking."

Evann clutched his chest, feigning offence. "It's like you don't even know me."

Evann raised his eyebrows at the entrance to Mott's shop, the elaborate carved door and the stonework statues surprised him. "Wow. Your forge at home isn't half as nice as this," he mused, running a finger down a particularly large breastplate just inside the door.

Aero frowned. "My forge at home isn't built for supply and demand. It's built for me."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that." He looked around in wonder at the vast collection of swords, knives, armor, and various other oddities around the shop. Evann was used to Cylix's castle forge lined with plain armor and basic swords for the guards. Aero's shop also had its share of curiosities. But it was nothing like the tinted metals and jewel encrusted armor of Mott's shop.

They allowed for their eyes to adjust, stepping into the dark shop. It was early still and only the hearth had been lit, preparing it for the day's work. Mott was nowhere to be seen, but a dark figure passed in front of the hearth, and she recognized the back belonging to Gendry. He hadn't noticed them come in.

"Is that the boy?" Evann asked, pointing at the dark haired figure in the back. Jaime Lannister had called the smith a boy, but Evann saw that the young man looked about the same age as Evann himself.

Aero moved farther into the dark space, Evann following behind. "Gendry. Good morning," she called to Gendry's back.

Alarmed, Gendry whipped around. "Your Grace!" he exclaimed, dropping a thankfully unfinished sword with a blunt edge onto his foot. "Fuck!"

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed hurrying over to help him sit on a stool. "I didn't mean to startle you." To his merit, he didn't start kicking things as Aero would have done. He sat on the stool and rubbed at the top of his foot where the sword hand landed.

"Shit," he breathed, still rubbing his foot. "I didn't mean to swear in front of you." His eyes widened as he realized he just said 'shit' and had now cursed twice in front of the young queen. Appalled with himself, he put his palm over his face and sighed. "Gods…"

Aero heard Evann chuckle behind her. She wanted very much to join him, but held her composure.

"What are you doing here?" Gendry asked, looking her over. She didn't look anything like she did yesterday. She was dressed in a soft linen shirt tucked into a pair of taunt black trousers and boots made of fine black leather that looked like they had once been very shiny and expensive but were now so worn that they were discolored in places. Her long black hair was pulled into a loose braid over her left shoulder. But she still had that look of wildness about her. He thought maybe it was because she was wearing pants. He'd never actually seen a proper woman wear pants before. Or because of her sword. He'd never seen a woman carry one of those either, living in King's Landing. He had heard that some Dornish women wear pants and train with weapons. But he had also heard that they weren't women you wouldn't want to get to know.

Gendry shook his head again at his own stupidity. "I'm sorry. That was rude."

"It's not rude," Aero insisted. "I'm in your space."

"It was a little rude," Evann smirked from beside Aero. She shot him a warning glance and he shrugged. "Well it was."

"I'm apprenticing under Mott," she explained, picking up the unfinished sword from the floor. "For a little while. Though, if you're the one doing most of the work on the Valyrian swords then I guess I'm actually apprenticing under you?" She turned to find him watching her with an expression of disbelief. "It's really not important," she continued. "I'm just here to learn."

She placed the unfinished sword on Gendry's work table as Gendry tried to choke back the lump in his throat at the idea of a queen being his apprentice. "And Mott knows?"

"Um…" Aero thought back on her conversation with Mott. "That's a little unclear. I told him I wanted to learn how to work Valyrian steel and he more or less was just amused that I'm a master smith."

Gendry's eyebrows quirked. "You're a master smith?"

"Yes," she answered plainly. "Are you shocked?"

"I'm not. I mean, I shouldn't be." He stumbled over his words. "I was. At first."

"But not now?"

Gendry shrugged and bit at his lower lip. "You told me how to get the curve right on my shoulder and thigh pieces."

"Did it work?"

Standing, Gendry moved to fetch a shiny shoulder plate from the wall behind him, forgetting all about his foot. He held it out to her and smiled. "Perfect the first time."

She took it from him to examine the smooth metal. "Well done!"

"Yes, yes. Well done and all that," Evann interrupted circling around Gendry.

"Aero is my best friend," the blond informed him. Aero sighed and Evann held up a finger to shush her, keeping his attention focused solely on the smith. "And you should know that if she needed to, she could kill you before you could blink."

"Evann!" she hissed. Again, he held up a finger to silence her.

"Not that she would," Evann conceded, still speaking to Gendry. "She's generally a nice person. Too nice, sometimes. And a little too trusting."

Aero huffed behind him.

"Which is where I come in," he persisted. "Because I don't trust anyone. Not you. Not Jaime Lannister. Not even the tiny red headed shop girl down the street." Evan looked the blacksmith over. The smith was taller. And more muscled from working the heavy iron. But Evann wagered that smith would be slower and much less agile. Gendry was solid and built for brawls. Evann was lithe and built for sword play.

"Your name is Gendry?" Evann asked.

"Yes," Gendry answered uneasily. He didn't like the way the blond man was prowling around him like a cat.

"Gendry what?"

"Gendry Waters."

Evann squared his shoulders and stood next to Gendry, judging his height. "How tall are you?" he asked.

"Um. I don't know?"

"Brothers or sisters?"

"None that I know of," the smith responded shaking his head.

"How old are you?"

"Ten and nine years."

Evann scratched his chin. "Children?"

"No."

"Wife or mistress?"

"Neither," Gendry frowned.

"Do you fight?" Evann asked gesturing to the assemblage of various weapons lining the walls.

"I just make the weapons."

Evann moved closer to the smith now, speaking low. "Are you a good person?"

Gendry furrowed his brow, considering his answer. "Decent enough, I guess."

"Do you like your hands?"

"What?" Gendry took a step back.

Evann stepped closer to Gendry this time and breathed in very deep whisper. "I asked if you liked your hands because now I feel obligated to tell you that if you touch my best friend, I will cut them off."

"I'm not…" Gendry scowled, indignant. "I would never."

"Good." Evann smiled suddenly, confusing Gendry. Not that Gendry didn't already find this entire morning to be surreal in every way. But the way that the blond man smiled at him felt like a lion baring his fangs. Dangerous.

Evann turned away and moved to stand beside Aero, causally tossing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her into his side.

"I like him," Evann declared. "As long as he keeps his hands to himself."

Gendry's face grew red and he dropped his gaze to the floor remembering the deep, visceral reaction when he had first seen Aero. At the time, he thought she was a lady. Now that he knew she was a queen, it didn't make the tightness in his stomach any less painful.

Aero laughed at Evann's statement. "Right," she chuckled. "Because he'll definitely find me attractive after watching me pour sweat all day." She shook her head and brushed off the notion as easily as she would brush off a fly. "No, I'm sure he has girlfriends. What would he want with me?"

Gendry couldn't say that he had never in his life had a girlfriend. Or even someone that could potentially be a girlfriend. He didn't want to fumble over his words in front of the young queen and her imposing friend by admitting that he had never even touched a woman before. Not in the way that he thought about late at night as he lay in his bed.

"Can I stay?" Evann asked, pulling Gendry out of his thoughts.

Aero grabbed a hammer that Evann had picked up and jerked it away from him. "No. You've already caused enough trouble today."

She was pushing him steadily toward the door, but he dug in his heels and twisted out of her grasp. "Me? You're the one losing your damn mind." He continued walking about the room picking up various objects just because he knew it would annoy her. "Adopting a sister… As if making sure you don't die here wasn't hard enough, now there's two of you!" He pointed a pair of tongs at her face and snapped them together for good measure.

She grabbed the tongs and pinched his nose with them. He yelped and let them go.

"Jaime is helping me look after Bet. You look after you."

Evann huffed, rubbing his nose. "Then who, pray tell, is going to keep you out of trouble?"

"Never said I wouldn't get into _some_ trouble," Aero shrugged. Evann gave her a pointed look that she couldn't take seriously when his nose was still red. "Fine," she sighed, giving in. "I promise not to start any tavern brawls without you. I know how you hate missing the fun."

Evann chuckled and playfully clucked her under the chin with his fist. "That's my girl." She loved his smile. It was one of the things that made Evann who he was. But his smile faded and he grew serious again. She didn't like Serious Evann nearly as much as Smiley Evann.

"I know you're tired of hearing it," he began. "And I know you can take care of yourself. But please consider the fact that if anything happens to you, your brothers would murder me." Not expecting this argument, Aero laughed. "Gentian did say he needed a new scarecrow for target practice."

Evann's eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. "Daggers or arrows?"

"Arrows."

Evann hissed. "He's shit enough at daggers that I might actually live. But that first arrow is going straight through my eye socket."

Aero patted him on the chest and feigned a look of sympathy. "When I write to them, I'll tell them to make it quick."

"Aero the merciful." Evann rolled his eyes and pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. He gave her a slobbery kiss on the forehead and she wriggled out of his grip, laughing. He sent another glare in Gendry's direction and said his goodbyes as Aero removed her sword and hung it on a hook behind Gendry's work table. She pulled a leather apron from beside her sword and tossed the neck strap over her head.

Gendry watched the exchange with interest. The playful banter amused him. But it also confused him. He was still struggling with the idea of seeing Aero as a person instead of queen, but he enjoyed the little elements of her personality that leaked out. She seemed so normal. Or, if not normal—considering he didn't often speak to women—she was, at the very least, not what he was expecting.

"He's a little… intense," Gendry began hesitantly.

"He's worried," she defended as she tied the leather apron behind her. "He becomes very much like a large cat in a tiny cage when he gets worried."

"Is he a knight?" he asked, arranging his work table and making sure all of his tools were where he needed them.

"No?" Aero furrowed her brow trying to figure out what about Evann would lead someone to believe he was knight. "Why would you think he's a knight?"

Gendry pointed at his back. "The swords?"

Aero breathed out a small laugh. "Oh. No. Not a knight. He's a gardener if you can believe it."

"A gardener that carries swords and befriends a queen. It's a little farfetched, don't you think?" Gendry took one of his small hammers by the handle and tossed it in the air, catching it as it flipped end over end. "What is he really? Personal guard? Sword master? Secret…" Aero quirked her eyebrow and he immediately halted his questions, cursing himself. "Forgive me. It's not my place to doubt your words."

"Gendry," she began, trying to sound reassuring. "You don't have to worry that I'm going to stab you with something pointy if you make a joke or question me." She moved behind him where he had just taken his own apron from the wall and pulled the band over his head. Without thinking anything of it, she took the leather strings and tied them for him, double knotting the loops as she did with her own.

"Evann is a gardener. His mother was the royal dressmaker for my mother. His father was the castle smith that I first apprenticed for." She turned him around to face her and she noticed that he stood about a hand's width taller than her. "He has been my best friend since we were children and since his father made the weapons, Evann would train with me in the yard. He would sit with me in the forge often enough, but he didn't want to take over for his father as the castle smith so he started to work the castle gardens." A slow smile crept up the side of her face. "I can't imagine what kind of odd people like sunshine, fresh air, and not sweating into their eyes every single day."

Gendry laughed heartily, the nervous tension in his muscles slowly beginning to ease. She dipped her head with a soft smile on her face. He watched as she moved around the space humming to herself and running her sure, slender fingers over unfinished axe heads, hammers, rasps, and any other tool that happened to look interesting. ' _She's just a person_ ,' he had to remind himself. His feelings moved in a rush around his head that he couldn't quite get a hold on them. He wondered had she been any other woman if he would still feel these deep twinges of lust, admiration, and guilt. Of course, if she had been any other woman, he never would have known her at all.


	7. The Greatsword

AN: Sorry this took so long, lovelies. I lost my dad in February and I'm just now getting back my motivation for... well, anything. But it's a massive 9,000+ word chapter so can we still be friends?

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Jaime found his father in The Hand's solar sitting at his desk as he always seemed to be these days. Whatever Tywin was plotting took up a lot of time. Important documents were scattered in piles across the formidable desk. With carved lion's heads at each corner, Tywin had the desk made to intimidate anyone sitting across from it. Jaime didn't sit in the chair his father gestured to. He stood, instead, beside the chair. He allowed himself these small acts of defiance deliberately made to annoy his father. It amused him.

Tywin leaned back and pressed his fingers together. "You brought the girl a handmaiden," he said flatly. It wasn't a question. Tywin didn't ask questions that he didn't already know the answer to.  
"I did," Jaime nodded with a shrug of nonchalance. He knew it also annoyed his father when he didn't take things seriously.

"And does she work for us?"

A slow smirk slid up the side of Jaime's face. "I can't imagine what you mean, father."

"You know very well what I mean," Tywin scowled. "Did you see to it that the whore would report to us?"

Jaime casually examined his nails, ignoring his father's pointed stare. "I didn't know that was a requirement in a good deed."

"As astute as Varys' spies are, having someone loyal to us close to the queen could only benefit us. Is the girl loyal to us?"

Jaime considered weaving a great tale about how the girl was sent to infiltrate the queen's chambers and gain her trust, but he couldn't guarantee that he could deliver such a grand lie with a straight face. "No," he replied with disdain. "Queen Aero is surrounded all day by sneaks and spies and gossips. We can afford this one act of kindness."

Tywin set his mouth in a tight line, looking Jaime over. Jaime thought he looked a bit more like a snake than a lion. "You've grown fond of the girl," Tywin said finally. Jaime turned his head but didn't answer. He had never learned how to hide his emotions as Cersei and Tywin had. Tywin nodded and leaned forward. "Good. It's better that your feelings for her are real. She will trust you and ultimately the end result is the same." Bored of the conversation, Tywin drew a quill from the inkwell on his desk and began making notes.

"It's not a strategy, father." Jaime felt his jaw clench. "I had no ulterior motives. It was a kindness."

Tywin pulled his attention away from his writing and placed the quill back in the inkwell to narrow his eyes at his son. "A kindness?" he spat. "A man does not earn respect with kindness. He earns respect with fear. Your grandfather was a kind man and he almost destroyed the Lannister name, the fool."

Jaime had heard the story of how his father had saved House Lannister from ruin more times than he could count. His father was a strong leader. But he was ruthless and lacked compassion. "I would rather be a kind fool than be like you," Jaime declared.

"Get out," Tywin hissed. With his fists clenched and his brow set, Jaime knew there would be no arguing with his father. He left his father's solar, his feet already taking him to Aero's chambers without thinking about it.

Aero stared out across the bay. The saltwater breeze reminded her of Cylix and her cozy forge where the smell of the sea would drift through the open windows as she worked. She would take the forge over a lady's brunch any day. But since she was a queen, she was expected to be sociable and respect the courtesies of accepting invitations from future queens when asked to dine in the castle gardens. Margaery was expecting her around midday. Bet had taken refuge in the library. Aero couldn't blame her for it in the least. Margaery was a lovely person, but Aero always had the feeling that when they spoke, they were having entirely different conversations from one another.

Not quite time to meet Lady Margaery, Aero distracted herself with walking among the flowers and enjoying the sound of the waves beating against the red stone. She kicked at loose rocks with the toe of her boot, choosing to wear the shirt and trousers that she would wear to the forge instead of a dress. Evann was walking her down to Mott's after lunch to continue to placate Jaime's fears of her being assaulted.

A flash of red caught Aero's eyes as the thing moved between the plants on one of the sea balconies below her. Sansa Stark stood at the edge of the terrace too far away to greet, but close enough to see that Sansa looked as though she wanted to throw herself over the railing into the bay below. The red head fingered with the diamond on the silver chain Aero had given her.  
"She's out here most days. When the queen lets her," came a deep voice from behind her. It shocked her. Very few people could sneak up on her. Tyrion's sword man Bronn smirked at her and leaned companionably against the railing. "Tyrion has me watching over her. Waste of my particular talent if you ask me."

Aero had yet to be formally introduced to Bronn though she had seen him in passing. His dark, wolfish features somehow made him look rakishly handsome. She didn't trust him—she didn't trust sellswords as rule in general, even if they have been knighted—but Tyrion seemed to like him well enough. "As far as she knows, she's the last Stark left alive," Aero responded.

Bronn quirked an eyebrow. "You know different?"

"I believe different," she shrugged and turned to rest her elbows on the railing watching Sansa below them. "They're torturing her, keeping her here. It's not right. She belongs in the North."

"And give up the heir of Winterfell? Not bloody likely." Bronn took a wineskin from his belt and drank deeply.

Despite his words, Aero felt a grin tug at her lips. She appreciated people that didn't censor their words around her. Bronn didn't seem like the type to censor much of anything. When he had his fill of wine, he wordlessly offered the skin to her. She took it, drinking as much, if not more of the stout summer wine than he did. Bronn grinned widely.

"You surprise me. Don't get much of that anymore," he confided fastening the wine skin back to his belt.

"How do I surprise you?"

"You hear a lot of things in taverns and brothels of King's Landing. Especially about a visiting queen. But drunk men and happy men always exaggerate."

"Am I not what you expected?" She smiled to herself.

"You seem nice enough, I guess. I don't think anyone really expected that considering the example we've had for the past seventeen years."

Satisfied with that, she turned her attention back toward Sansa, still staring longingly at what Aero assume was the freedom of the sea.

"I know what you're thinking."

Aero didn't look at him. "You know me so well already? Go on, then."

"You want to save her," Bronn declared, his deep voice gone to a low growl.

"Don't you?" She turned her head to see that he was cleaning underneath his dirty nails with the small dagger he carried at his waist. She wasn't concerned with Bronn holding a dagger. If he wanted her dead, he could have killed her before he announced himself. She leaned back over the railing, squinting into the sun. "If Ned Stark were still alive, he would send the whole of the North to take back his daughter."

"You knew Ned Stark?"

Aero shook her head. "My father did. He said Lord Stark was among the finest men he ever met. He didn't deserve to die."

Bronn quietly sheathed his dagger, joining Aero in watching Sansa. "No. He didn't. But that didn't stop the whelp from cutting off his head and putting it on a spike. Taking one daughter as a hostage and killing the other in her sleep for all we know." He paused for a moment to consider his next words. "You should be careful here, little queen. Not a threat. More of a request. It didn't matter that Stark was a lord. Doesn't matter that you're a queen. They'll do the same to you and call it an accident. Or they'll say that you plotted against their king and they had no choice. Doesn't matter, really. The Lannisters are the law in Westeros."

A small smile crept up the side of her sun drenched face. "The prospect of being an outlaw never seemed so appealing."

"Oh, it is," sighed Bronn. "And by the gods, do I miss it. It's hard work being a kept man. Lannister gold pays my debts and all it costs is my sword and my soul."

Turning her back to the railing, she crossed her arms under her breasts and narrowed her eyebrows. "Well they can't have my soul. And the seven hells would have to freeze over before they take my head. If they want a fight, _that_ they can have."

"I'm a simple man. I like drinking, I like fucking… fighting when it suits me. And I like my head where it is. Honor never bothered me too much. Didn't care for the taste of it."

"Would you kill me? If the price was right?"

Bronn stood and faced her slowly, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "I'm a sellsword. That's what I do." His thin mouth slipped easily into a smirk. "But if it makes you feel any better, it'd cost more than even the Lannisters could pay."

"Queen Aero, there you are." Ser Loras called out to her as he approached, a lopsided grin on his face and his hair bouncing with his every step.

"Loras, how many times have I asked you to call me Aero?" she asked, hand on her hip.

Loras screwed up his face in mock concentration. "At least four that I remember." He shrugged. "Probably more. Shall we go? My sister and grandmother are waiting for us just a bit farther."

The lady Olenna Tyrell sat at a relatively small table in a shady retreat built to overlook the blue waters of the bay. As Aero and Loras approached, the lady balked at Aero's choice of clothing.

"By the gods, girl, are men's trousers in fashion now?" The older lady leaned over the black marble table only to make a face at Aero's scuffed up boots and the sword that rested on her hip.

"I used to wear them for shock value, but now they're just comfortable," Aero joked, taking the seat Loras offered her next to the Lady Olenna. The Queen of Thorns, Aero recalled from her council sessions, also enjoyed shock value.

"Women carrying swords in Westeros… First the Tarth girl and now the foreign queen. What a lovely rattling you two give the men of this city. They need a little shaking up since the Targaryen women are gone." The lady practically giggled with joy. "Half the men that carry a sword don't even know how to use it properly. They only have them in their oversize sheathes to make up for the inadequacies of their pathetically small genitals." Margaery shook her head at the older woman and sent Aero an apologetic smile. "What was interesting enough to keep you?" Olenna asked. The way she set her face made her seem as though she was perpetually annoyed.

"She was talking to the Ser Bronn," offered Loras taking the seat opposite his sister. He lazily tossed a grape into the air and caught it in his mouth. Winking at Aero, he leaned back in his chair and rested his hands across his stomach.

Aero smothered a giggle and turned her attention to the Lady Olenna.

"Lord Tyrion's trained pet," the older woman huffed sardonically. "How fascinating."

"He is fascinating, actually." Aero helped herself to a cluster of grapes still on the vine. "Never met anyone that wasn't."

"Clearly you haven't had a conversation with my son. Dullard if there ever was one," Olenna argued.

"Grandmother," Margaery laughed, slightly chastising. "You'll have our guest thinking we're terrible people."

Aero mimicked Loras' posture, leaning back and tossing a grape into her mouth. "It's alright. She's testing me to see if I'll flinch." Aero smirked at the older woman, unafraid of giving offence. She had an aunt very much like the Lady Olenna who would make blatantly rude remarks that, albeit true, did not hold with the courtly courtesies meant to be observed in society. She was Aero's favorite aunt.

Lady Olenna narrowed her eyes at Aero and pressed her fingertips together. "Smart girl. Wine?"

"And trying to get me drunk. If I knew this lunch was going to be so entertaining, I would have gotten here early." Aero sat up to accept the glass of wine offered to her by a young serving girl that had appeared from behind her. When Aero thanked her, the girl nodded and stepped back, disappearing once again.

"I like her," Olenna decided, turning to Loras. "You should be marrying her instead of Cersei Lannister."

Aero raised her glass. "I'm much more fun, let me assure you." Aero didn't think for a second that Lady Olenna was serious. Loras was beautiful, to be sure, but Aero couldn't take him seriously. Men who flirted so easily and so well tended to have much more practice than she cared for.

"Why aren't you married yet? Hasn't your father found you a suitable match?" Olenna asked, popping a cheese cube into her mouth.

"How do you know for certain that I'm not married?"

"A husband letting a woman that looks like you travel with a dozen men by sea to a strange land? Certainly you would give me more credit than that. And besides, I hear your father sent word ahead to prominent Westerosi lords, including my dullard son, that his eligible daughter would be visiting the capital." Olenna drank deeply from her cup, enjoying the way the young queen's casual façade began to crumble. "I would expect you to have many suitors by the time the tournaments start. All of the unfettered knights and lords in all of the Seven Kingdoms will be here for the wedding anyway. "

Aero did flinch this time, unaware that her father had sent letters of her unwed status to the lords of Westeros. She most likely would have been humiliated if it wasn't she who had turned down the other suitors. Her father would throw up his hands in exasperation each time she sent them away. He was looking out for her best interests, she knew. That was the only thing that kept her from being angry with him.

"What sort of husband are you looking for? Surely a girl like you would choose brain over brawn. Or perhaps you like a man that can throw you around in your private time. Before I met my husband, I had a long summer in Dorne with a particularly beautifully built masonry apprentice and we-"

"Grandmother!" Margaery chastised again, placing her youthful hand over her grandmother's gnarled ones. Loras hid a smirk behind his apple, but Aero could see his eyes teeming with glee as he stifled a chuckle.

"I don't suppose it matters in your case," Olenna continued before Aero could speak. "You have the luxury of already being queen. Anyone you choose to marry is going to be below your station. You don't have to fight tooth and nail for an advantageous marriage ."

The wild thoughts that ran rampant in Aero's mind sobered instantly. She swallowed and nodded. "My father pushes me to meet with many suitors, but you're right. Because of my position, I am allowed to choose my own husband and it's something that I often take for granted. I apologize."

Margaery smiled sweetly and pulled a black curl behind Aero's shoulder and rested her hand on Aero's arm. "No apology necessary. Our sons will be kings. We will teach them to be better than us."

"You've been very kind to me, Margaery." Aero smiled back and brought her hand to rest on top of Margaery's. "More than I deserve. Could I bother you for another favor?"

Aero found Evann where he said he would be waiting for her—in the poorly lit library watching over Bet. The library in the Red Keep was expansive, no doubt owning to the fact that it was built by the Targaryens. The vaulted ceilings were not high, but they were richly decorated with carvings of vines and gold leaf. Rows of old books lined the shelves against the walls. The room was designed with aesthetic symmetry that was thrown off by the addition of new shelves that stood near the center of the room, but just off center enough that it was annoying to look at.

Aero had been to the library a couple of times, always to check on Bet. She seemed to be permanent fixture in the large dusty arm chair sat next to one of the library's two windows. The chair itself was so large that it made Bet look like a small child with the way she tucked her feet under her as she read. It also didn't help that Bet was wearing one of Aero's dresses that was entirely too big for her small frame. Evann sat rapt with attention listening to Bet read from a book of poetry. He had pulled up a rickety old chair from one of the tables and sat in it the opposite way with his arms resting over the chair's back.

It struck Aero as funny. Evann had never been particularly interested in poetry, though he did like to read. He favored the old stories of adventure and exotic creatures. Definitely not poetry.

Aero cleared her throat. It seemed like such an intrusive and guttural noise in the midst of Bet's sweet, clear voice. Bet and Evann looked up, not having heard her enter. Evann grinned sheepishly and pulled the chair from underneath him, pushing it flush with the table to his right.

Bet smiled, still a little uneasy with her new position as Aero's adopted sister, and closed the book in her lap. Evann had been particularly kind to her, reassuring her that despite his argument with Aero yesterday, she was safe and he wouldn't let anyone harm her. He had also reassured her that Aero wasn't one to go back on her decisions. Once Aero made up her mind to take Bet as a sister, the only way she would change her mind was if Bet decided it wasn't what she wanted. "So you're stuck with us," he had said, dragging his fingers through his long blond hair. Sometimes when he smiled at her or he looked up at her from where he busy doing something else, she allowed herself to daydream that he was a dashing young god come to earth to live amongst the dull mortals.

She had met many men before—the ones that would come through Lord Baelish's brothel. Some of them seemed nice enough. Some were young men seeking their first time with a woman. Some were traders, only in the capital for a day or so and just seeking pleasure. Some were desperately lonely and only wanted companionship. And others were horrible, fiendish men that drank too much and thought too little. But Evann was altogether different from any of them. He was earnest and kind and she enjoyed the way he talked about Aero. Because of him she began to see Aero more as a person instead of this fierce thing that scared her. She shared this fear with Evann just this morning and he laughed until his face had gone red and he had to brace himself on the table nearby. "Truly, she is fearsome," he told her when he could catch his breath. "She's loyal. And she's kind. And if it means anything, I'd follow her into hell because I know she'd do the same for me. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her."

"You love her," Bet acknowledged, feeling a little defeated.

Evann had given a small 'heh' and looked down at his feet as he rubbed his palms together. "I've known her since I was born. There's not a memory I have that doesn't have her in it. She's my best friend. She'll be my best friend until both of us are washed and buried and even long after that. I'll find a wife. And she'll eventually find a man that she can tolerate and marry him. But she'll still be my best friend. I love Aero. And I'll love my wife. But it's always going to be a different kind of love."

Bet swallowed hard and let his words sink in. "Do you think anyone will ever compare to her?"

"What's there to compare?" Evann shook his head. "Gods help us all if there is anyone that _can_ compare to her. But I already have an Aero. I'm not looking for another one." He massaged the bruise on his shoulder from where Aero had punched him the other day and pulled back his sleeve to show Bet the mark. "I don't think I would survive it."

Bet laughed earnestly for the first time since she had come to the castle. She could only imagine what he had done to deserve to be punched.

Evann walked with Aero through the corridors of the Keep. They had left Bet in the library and as she had promised Jaime, Aero was allowing Evann to escort her to Tobho Mott's shop. But there were two stops she intended to make on the way. One was the kitchen. And the other…

Aero turned the corner she knew led to the Lannister's small dining hall where she found Tywin, Tyrion, Cersei, Joffrey and Tommen having a late lunch. Jaime was standing guard along the far wall behind the king's chair. He was the one to tell her that his family would be taking their lunch later than normal. She stood a few paces inside the doorway with Evann standing just behind her.

"Queen Aero," Tywin greeted formally. "Would you like to join us?" She noted his exclusion of Evann. It irritated her greatly.

She shook her head, her fist clenched at her side. "Thank you, but Evann and I were just leaving."

"Exploring today?" he asked, feigning interest.

People seemed to be afraid of Tywin Lannister. Joffrey was the king, but everyone knew that Tywin Lannister ran the kingdom. He thought loyalty could be controlled through fear. And perhaps to some extent, he was right. But using fear control a person only works if the person is afraid. And Aero wasn't afraid.

"I am apprenticing with Tobho Mott for the time being. I don't pretend to be so naïve to expect that someone has not already told you this." Aero shrugged and continued. "But I felt I should tell you all in person. I am a guest here, after all."

"Of course, Aero." Joffrey waved her off and wiped his mouth with the napkin from his lap. "You're welcome to do as you please."

"Again, I very much appreciate your generosity." Aero faked a smile and shifted to move a little farther into the room. "Though, there is one other thing. Ser Jaime brought to me a girl."

"Yes. The whore. What of it?" Cersei had her arms folded across her chest with a bored, emotionless expression.

Aero shot daggers at the blond woman with her eyes. "Her name is Bet," she stated with authority. "I have adopted her as my sister and a ward of my house. She is to be afforded the rights and respects of a Lady of Eryatheia. She is now one of my people and she will carry the name Vysrane. She no longer belongs to Westeros." Never did Aero remove her eyes from Cersei the entire time she was speaking. She gained a sick satisfaction watching the elder queen's mouth slowly turn down more with every word.

She only looked away when she heard Tyrion speak. He leaned over to Tywin and in a very staged whisper asked "Can she do that?"

"She can't," Cersei declared with savage calm. "The girl was born in Westeros. She will stay here. She will not be your ward because she is a bastard and a whore and has no family to give their consent."

Aero's eyes flashed in anger, her hand immediately going to the grip of her sword. "So take her back," she challenged.

Joffrey, bored of a matter that didn't concern him, waved Aero off once more. "What does it matter, mother? Give the whore to Aero."

Tywin caught Cersei's eye and with one look, quieted her. "The queen has made a request that a girl of no consequence to Westeros be taken as a ward of Eryatheia," he snapped harshly at his daughter. "The girl is yours, Queen Aero."

Not willing to accept defeat gracefully, Cersei spoke up just as Aero was turning to leave. "Just because you dress a whore in pretty clothes and give her a title doesn't make her any less of a whore."

She could hear Evann grinding his teeth behind her, willing himself to stay quiet. Instead of finding offense and losing her temper, however, Aero retained a steady calm. "Clearly," she agreed. "But maybe one day she could marry and become queen."

Tyrion coughed into his glass of wine and Joffrey guffawed loudly and banged his fist on the table. Cersei seethed quietly in her chair, her knuckles white from her grip on her wine cup.

Aero nodded to the men. "Good day to you, gentlemen, Prince Tommen, King Joffrey." She in turn nodded to Tommen and Joffrey and lastly nodded to Cersei, not dropping her eyes. "Queen Dowager."

Aero stopped just inside the doorway as she was making her exit. She turned, needing to say one more thing. "Also, if I hear anyone refer to my sister as a whore again, I will take it as a personal insult. Make of that whatever you will." She smiled at the family and turned again to walk from the room, her boots echoing down the hall.

They made it as far as the outer gates in silence when Aero nonchalantly commented "So… You like poetry now."

Evann dipped his head, embarrassed. "Shut up."

Evann left her outside the entrance of Mott's shop and kissed the top of her hair, shining and hot from the sun. He was eager to get back to Bet in the library and Aero admitted that even though she initially didn't believe Bet was in any immediate danger, it comforted her to know that both Evann and Jaime were helping to watch over the girl while Aero was away from the Keep.

An hour or so after midday, she found Mott's other two apprentices, a boy about ten and three years named Efain and an older boy about ten and seven years named Halvic, at their worktables hammering away at what looked like chest plates. Halvic blushed scarlet when he saw Aero and accidentally let the hammer he was using come down on Efain's thumb. The younger boy howled in pain and Halvic suddenly went from scarlet to white, mortified. Mott was speaking with a customer so Aero took it upon herself to wander around to the back of the shop to see if Mott had Gendry pulling in buckets of ore for the shop.

She found Gendry around the side of the building, but he wasn't unloading ore.

"I've got to put shoes on you. You're not going to give me any trouble are you?" Aero watched the smith run his hands down the neck of a beautiful golden mare. "I've been warned that the pretty ones are always trouble. But you, you wouldn't hurt me would you?" The horse nudged at him with her soft nose and he scratched her forehead. "No. I didn't think so."

Aero held back for a moment, hanging the parcel of food she brought from the kitchen and her sword on a hook in the wall. It was funny to her to find Gendry talking to a horse when she often did the same with Ovid. She would coo at Ovid and call the mare beautiful. She liked to believe that the mare knew exactly what she was saying.

Gendry held his hand to the mare's nose for a second longer and began to move down the horse's side letting his hand glide over her. It was his way of keeping contact with the horse—letting her know where he was so she wouldn't shy away from him. He ran his hands first down each of her front legs and pinched the tendon at the back so the mare would lift her hoof. He inspected the hoof carefully looking for rot and wear. The mare's shoes were caked with mud, but he would take care of that when he pulled them off. He used the same technique again as he moved on to the back legs, never walking behind the horse and always keeping contact with his hand so she would know where he was. Aero had learned this lesson the hard way when a horse kicked her when she first started apprenticing.

"But you are a beauty," he cooed at the mare, moving back toward her head. "If I could steal you away, I would. We would have great adventures, you and I. Just the two of us. Maybe we could invite _her_ along, too, huh?" He pulled a sugar lump from his pocket and offered it to her with a flat palm. She took it without hesitation. "If you're not too jealous, of course."

"I certainly would be." Aero stepped out from the side of the shop and moved to stand beside him.

Gendry jumped slightly, causing the mare to jerk at her tether. "Your Grace!" His face flushed a deep red.

"You know, you always seem to jump when you see me." Aero smirked feeling somewhat guilty that his reaction amused her.

"You always seem to appear out of nowhere," he countered.

She bent to pick up the coarse brush from the stool next to him and busied herself brushing at the mare's coat. She started at the mare's neck, scratching down the horse's mane and whispering to her. "I wouldn't mind for someone would talk to me like that," she told the horse in a gentle, lulling voice. "But you golden haired girls get all the attention." The horse nudged at her shoulder with its nose and nickered softly. "I'll tell you a secret, though. I think you're beautiful, too." Aero kissed the horse on the side of its long nose and continued brushing while steadily complimenting the animal. Gendry began working to pull the old shoes off the horse all the while with a lopsided grin on his face that he hoped Aero couldn't see.

They pulled the mare into a makeshift shoeing rack that didn't look like it got much use. Gendry was examining the metal shoes that Efain had made. They weren't perfect, but they would do well enough. "So who is this mystery girl you're running away with?" Aero asked, amusement clear in her voice.

Gendry was glad she was on the other side of the mare and didn't see his ears redden. "It's no one. I was just talking to the horse to make her calm."

"Alright. Keep your secrets," she placated him, crossing under the horse's head and moving to finish brushing the side Gendry had started. "I didn't think that Mott would do horse shoes."

"He doesn't. He has me do it." Gendry took turns tossing the shoes in the air, enjoying the way they would spin. "It's a special favor for one of Master Mott's friends," he explained. "We don't otherwise."

Aero helped him through the hot shoeing process on the mare, making conversation. Gendry was interesting to talk to now that he said more than five words to a sentence. She was afraid his stoicism was a permanent part of his personality. She was genuinely glad that was not the case. He spoke easily of the past work he had done and answered her never ending questions about everything from his early apprenticeship smelting ore to now. The men that came in the shop didn't know his name, but it made him proud when any customers would come in asking for 'the tall one with the black hair.'

"Did I miss anything this morning?" she asked, holding the mare's hoof between her knees to cut off the worn bottom layer. "I wanted to be here earlier but I had a lunch meeting."

"Nothing much. With the tourneys coming up, we've been busy making armor, but it's nothing we can't handle." Sweat was beading up on Gendry's brow as he filed around the hoof to grind down the metal of the nails. He wiped at the sweat with the back of his arm. "Master Mott says we're going to halve the greatsword today so that you and I can start shaping the two."

Aero moved to the back, tucking another hoof between her knees and dug the muck out of the horse's sole with a hoof pick. "I'm still not convinced that melting down Ice is necessary."

"Mott said Tywin Lannister is making an example out of the Starks," Gendry answered over his shoulder. He was pressing a hot shoe into the bed of the mare's hoof to fit it. "Bend the knee or die." He dropped the scalding shoe into a bucket of water to let it sizzle and cool. "Anyway, there's no more Valyrian steel in Westeros. Anyone that has any isn't letting it go any time soon."

He pulled the shoe back out of the water with a pair of tongs, fit it to the mare's foot and started pounding in the nails. "You know, I heard Master Mott talking to a man…"Gendry's speech was muffled as he was trying to talk with shoeing nails gripped between his lips. "He says that if the steel from the greatsword were to be sold, it would be worth hundreds of millions of gold dragons. Can you imagine that? Millions. We're holding steel worth millions of gold dragons in our hands."

Aero had finished cleaning the back hooves and cut the excess off of them as well. She turned to help Gendry, holding her hand underneath his mouth for him to drop the nails into. "You probably do that all the time, though," he shrugged, speaking clearly now that he had released the nails from his lips into Aero's hand.

Aero shook her head, handing him nails as he needed them. "Some of the stones I use to make jewelry are expensive. But nothing near millions of gold coins. It's exciting. But also kind of terrifying." She furrowed her brow. "What if we screw something up?"

Finished with the front hooves, Gendry released the mare's leg and ruffled his hair. "I hadn't thought past the millions in gold part…" His eyebrows narrowed, looking toward the ground. "We can't be executed for bad smithing, can we?" He looked up at her with a sardonic expression. "Well, you can't. I could."

"You won't," she reassured him, taking in a deep breath. "I just had a brief moment of panic. But we're going to be great. We can do this!"

Her newfound enthusiasm was not contagious. "I hope so," Gendry sighed, tossing his hammer in the air and catching it again. "I'd really rather not be labeled a failed smith. I don't have another trade to fall back on."

Gendry made a run to the hearth to grab the next shoe, still glowing red from the fire. Aero was already in position with the mare's back hoof between her knees so he handed the grips holding the hot shoe to her to press into the hoof. Smoke curled around them for a moment before Aero pulled the shoe away and dropped it into the water bucket Gendry had moved beside her.

"If it comes to it, you could always come to Eryatheia and take over my forge," she said casually, her mind elsewhere. "I'm afraid it hasn't been getting the attention it deserves lately. I'm always so busy with everything else." She looked up to see his stricken face, mistaking the expression for horror instead of wonderment that she had just offered him her personal forge like it was a simple piece of candy.

"But it's not going to come to that!" she exclaimed. "Because we're going to kick ass!"

Gendry recovered and crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head at her with a bemused smile, but he didn't share her eagerness. "Say it," she urged, mischievous glint in her eye. "Say we're going to kick ass."

Gendry warily turned to eye the door behind them that lead to the back of the shop. "I don't think Master Mott would like me cursing in front of you."

"Gendry." She pulled his attention away from the door with the sound of his name. He liked when she said his name. Her gaze narrowed on him like he was the only thing she saw and held eye contact for what should have been an uncomfortable amount of time. "We're going to kick ass," she said with all the finality of a command.

He straightened his back. He doubted she ever gave up on a project that she hadn't finished flawlessly And he knew that the perfectionist inside him wouldn't allow it either. "If you say so," he responded.

Between the two of them, they finished the last shoe quickly and Gendry led the mare around to the front of the shop while Aero dipped her hands into a bucket of rainwater to wash off.

"I don't suppose you've had lunch, have you?" she asked when he returned to the side of the shop. The narrow walk looked like it had been an alley between buildings at one point, but Mott had blocked it off to use as another working area. She saw passersby on the main street, but no one bothered them back here.

"Nah. I've been working." Gendry dipped his own hands into the bucket of rainwater to wash and splashed some of the cool water on his face.

"Good." She pulled two stools from against the wall up to the outside worktable that was mercifully in the shade since the sun had ducked behind the tall building. "Take a break and have lunch with me."

She retrieved the parcel from the wall hook and laid it out on the table unwrapping it. Gendry's mouth immediately began watering at the smell of whatever it was. "Didn't you say you had a lunch meeting?" he hesitated, looking at the food.

"I did," she nodded, helping herself to a piece of cheese. "But you don't eat lunch at a lunch meeting."

"No?"

"Lunch meetings with ladies are meant for gossip and gloating." She popped another piece of cheese into her mouth. "And wine," she added. When Gendry didn't reach for anything, she pushed the food closer to him. "I made a quick stop in the kitchen. Roast pheasant, bread, cheese, grapes, and some berry cakes. I didn't know what you would like so I just grabbed what I could."

Gendry had never had pheasant. Not in his whole life. He found he liked the rich savory taste of the meat so tender that it was falling off the bone. And the berry cakes were so delicious, he hardly believed anything could taste like that—so sweet and fluffy. It was miles away from the brown bread and lukewarm stew he normally ate. They split the small loaf of bread and Aero happily insisted Gendry take the larger half. With all the food, she was more than generous. She made sure that he had the bigger portion.

Aero sat beside him in comfortable silence as they ate. He hadn't known her for very long, but already he noticed little things she did like crossing her arms when she was frustrated. And when she was thinking about something, she crossed her legs and let the one that dangled kind of bounce in the air. She did that now as she leaned forward on her stool, a grape in her fingers and a faraway look on her face.

"Gendry?" She turned her head only a little toward him, but kept her eyes staring off at some imaginary point of interest.

"Hmm?" The pheasant in his mouth kept him from being more intelligible.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked, foot still bouncing.

He swallowed. "I suppose?"

She turned to face him then, her face suddenly serious. "I need your word. I mean, I realize your loyalty lies with King Joffrey but—"

"I've never met the king," he interrupted. "He's never done anything for me. You've shown me more kindness in a day than…" He stopped and held her eyes, taking on the gravity of the moment. He realized no one outside of Mott, Halvic, and Efain had ever really gone out of their way to show him any type of kindness. "If you tell me a secret, I'm gonna keep it."

"I think I've found a way that we can separate Ice into two swords without losing its legacy."

"How's that?"

Aero looked back that the door behind them and around the alleyway to make sure no one was within earshot. "I'm going to spell the metal so that it can only be used by a Stark or someone loyal to the Starks."

"Spell?" Gendry dropped the piece of cheese he was about to put in his mouth, taken aback. "But you're… Are you really magic?" he asked, looking at her with a new perspective. His eyes instinctively went to the light markings on her forearms, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to the elbows. "They said you were. Something about Jaime Lannister's hand… But I didn't believe it."

She was thoughtful for a second before taking his hand from the table and pulling it toward her. He was sitting beside her and it was easy enough for her to let his arm rest across her lap. He let her fingers wander over his heavy knuckles and his work hardened hands for a moment before tracing her way up to his forearm. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and goosepimples shot down his body as her fingers lightly skimmed over years of burn marks that discolored the skin of his forearm. Her hands were warm on his skin where she turned his arm so that his palm faced up. Just above his wrist was a deep red burn just beginning to blister. He had burned himself this morning, lost, daydreaming—about her, if he was being honest.

She had pulled her hair back, but loose strands of curls had worked their way free of the tie and hung down to partially cover her face as she inspected the mark. Sitting next to her eating, Gendry hadn't realized how close they were. He could smell flowers on her skin and in her hair. _'Did all women smell like this?_ ' he wondered.

Distracted as he was, he wasn't so preoccupied that he didn't notice the sting when she prodded at the blister. Or how the tip of her finger began to glow as she dragged it across the top of his blistered burn. His heart beat faster and he felt the urge to push away her hand and scratch at his scalded skin. But before he could, she was done. The skin was still somewhat pink and there was a small pucker where he would have a small scar as it would if it had healed over time. He pulled his arm away from her lap and ran a finger down the scar to make sure it wasn't a trick in his mind. The mark was more sensitive than the rest of his skin, but the blister had completely healed over and there was no pain.

"Okay," he nodded, still more than a little shocked. "Spelling the swords. Are we telling Master Mott?"

Aero shook her head. "No. It's too risky," she said, taking his arm back to examine the healed skin again. She gently prodded the sensitive skin again. He didn't flinch this time. Satisfied, she allowed him to pull away. He bent forward on the stool, resting his elbows on his thighs and looking up at her. "If the swords are going to Tywin… The last thing he's going to want is to have the remnants of Ice made loyal to his enemies. No one else can know but us. At least until it's done."

Gendry looked down at the red dirt underneath his feet and pondered the consequences of treason. "And if he did find out?"

"I would protect you," she vowed. "He can't do anything to me without starting a war with Eryatheia. If you were somehow named as my accomplice, he'd have you killed. But I swear I would never let that happen."

"They would kill me." Gendry rubbed his hands together and nodded again, his eyes glazing over as he tried to wrap his head around the idea.

"You don't have to be involved if you're worried," she assured him. "I can do it myself." Gendry was still stuck on the part where he could be killed. He knew he wouldn't tell her no. Not even at the risk of death. If she trusted him, he trusted her.

He ran his hands over his face and sat up, decided. "I'll do it."

She leaned forward on the stool and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure? This isn't something to be taken lightly. If it came to it, I would fight for you. I don't know if we would win, but as long as I'm living, I would never let you get hurt for something I did."

Gendry felt himself nod again and finally regain awareness. When his eyes focused again, they focused on her. Her face took up almost his entire field of vision. Or maybe it just seemed that way because it was the only thing he cared to see. "I'll do it," he repeated. "I trust you."

"Do you trust easily?"

"No."

They worked on the first of the swords that day, heating up the greatsword Ice enough so that it could be halved. The steel would need to be elongated and the width thinned, but it was manageable. It was an arduous job. Mott had Halvic working with Aero and the youngest apprentice, Efain, was assisting Gendry while the old man supervised. The hearth burned so hot that even the steel on the wall began to sweat. But they succeeded in halving the greatsword after many, many trips to the hearth to reheat and hammering the red hot steel to thin the metal.

Everyone was relieved when Gendry cast the final blow to chisel and the two halves separated. By then, the sky was beginning to grow dark in the early evening. Aero accepted the cup of water Gendry handed to her as he began the nightly process of closing up the shop. Halvic and Efain hand gone home to their families for the night and Mott went home to his wife. It was left to Gendry to douse the fire, close up the windows and doors, and put away the tools. He didn't mind the work. It gave him something to do instead of sitting idle in his room. More often than not, he would let the fires burn late into the night as he worked on his own projects or got an early start on work for the next day.

Aero retrieved her sword from the hook at the side door and came back to help Gendry finish closing up. It was still sweltering in the shop as they wrapped the two halves of Ice up in cloths and tucked the bulk underneath the counter to stay safe. Gendry, still dripping sweat from the heat, wiped at the back of his neck with a rag and marveled at how Aero managed to still seem so put together despite also being drenched in sweat. He amusedly watched her from across the room as she struggled to tuck more of the loose curls that had escaped her hair tie. She gave up, huffing. Frustrated, she pulled at the bottom of her shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from her face. With his heart suddenly in his throat, Gendry noted that the markings on her arms extended to her stomach; the whirling patterns dancing across the plane of her stomach, around her bellybutton, and disappearing into the waist of her trousers. In the light of the sun, the markings were less noticeable, but here in the light of the fire, he saw that the whorls caught the flames and almost seemed to reflect them back. It made her skin shimmer.

He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to escape from the dark road his thoughts were leading him down. When Aero noticed him in his befuddled state, she quirked her head to the side, confused.

He cleared his throat again as she was tucking her shirt back into the waist of her pants and buckling the sword belt at her hip.

"I wanted to ask before," he began, not wanting her to leave yet, "but would you care if I looked at your sword?"

"Of course not." She smiled and moved to lean against his worktable as he was doing. She pulled her sword from the sheath at her left hip and handed it to him handle first. "Why didn't you ask me before?"

He shrugged, considering the events of the past few days. "Who had the time in between me accidentally burning you and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard wanting to put a sword through my chest?"

She winced and looked down at her feet. "It was my fault I was burned and I think Jaime is a little over protective. I'm sorry he held his sword on you."

Gendry turned the sword over in his hands. He didn't have to be familiar with her style to know that she had made the sword herself. He could feel it. It was like the sword breathed as a living thing and he recognized it as a part of her.

"When I first saw you both in the entrance, I thought you were betrothed," he commented offhandedly without looking up from the sword. The polished black metal was exquisite.

Her lips quirked in a half smile. "Is that your way of asking me if I am betrothed?"

He started, confused for a moment as to how they had gotten to this conversation. He didn't realize he had said what he was thinking out loud. "I just assumed, I guess," he shrugged.

"We're not," she shook her head and nervously played with her fingers. "I'm not… promised. To anyone."

A heavy silence hung in the air as he let her words settle. It still didn't matter. Not where he was concerned. But it still made his heart swell in his chest when she said it.

"This is a beautiful sword," he concluded, breaking the silence. "What metal did you use? I can't place it."

"Ore mined from the side of the volcano Duunas. Not much of it. Enough to make Shadow and a few knives." Aero bent forward and retrieved a small hiltless dagger hidden in her boot and twirled it between her fingers with expert skill before returning its hiding place.

"Shadow?"

She motioned to her sword. He was examining the pommel now and the great black diamond embedded in metal. "That's what I named it. Dark and silent like a shadow."

He hefted the sword by its grip to gauge the weight and balance. "It's thin. Surely you can't fight broadswords with this."

"The metal is spelled so that it's unbreakable and the edges never need sharpening."

Gendry narrowed his eyebrows and ran a thumb down the length of one edge of the double sided blade. "I'm still a little confused on this whole spelling process."

"It's not a process. Not really. While I work, I try to think of what I want to accomplish, and I can feel something tugging at the base of my heart."

Taken aback, Gendry drew his attention away from the sword and rubbed at his chest. "Does it hurt?" he asked with his face contorted in sympathy pain.

Aero laughed and shook her head. "No. It feels kind of…tingle-y?" Gendry raised an eyebrow. "Like when you've slept on your arm and it feels like hundreds tiny pin pricks inside your skin. Except it doesn't have that sting to it. It feels warm. Comforting."

She sighed and pushed away from the worktable. "I should probably be going. I make people anxious when I don't show up for dinner."

"And by people, you mean Jaime Lannister?" he asked, a little bolder than before.

She shrugged. "Among others. Do you have food for dinner?"

"I have plenty to eat upstairs," he lied, handing her back her sword. She sheathed it "When should I expect you tomorrow?"

"Morning. Not sunrise. Probably just after daybreak."

He nodded his confirmation as she made to leave. She stopped just inside the doorway. "Goodnight," she called over her shoulder. She waited for him to respond in kind before she slipped silently out the door and into the night.

Jaime wouldn't like it if he knew she was walking alone in the dark. But unlike during the day, the narrow pathways of King's Landing were inhabited with drunken men and people that would rather not be noticed at night. Aero was fine with this, just as happy to go unnoticed or mistaken for a boy in her trousers in the dimly lit alleyways. She skated silently through the darkness and back up to the Keep.

When she arrived safely back to her room, she found that almost every available surface was covered in fabrics of every color and texture imaginable. Bet gave a strangled cry for help as Aero entered the room, a dressmaker and her assistant scolding Bet to stand up straight as they took measurements. Aero couldn't help herself; she laughed until she almost hit the floor. She had to brace herself on the back of a fabric laden chair. She should have known that when she asked a favor from Margaery that it would get done the same day.


	8. Conversations Behind Closed Doors

The scarlet and gold Lannister banner dipped low, ticking the top of Tyrion's head. He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. "Pod! Pay attention." The scuffling and the 'thwack' that Tyrion heard behind him meant that his young squire had likely been jerked out of some daydream or another and hit himself in the head with the banner pole. He heard Podrick grumble and knew he had guessed correctly.

It was Queen Aero's fault that Podrick had lost all sense of decorum and his basic motor skills. Tyrion's father, Tywin, had sent him as an emissary to greet the company from Dorne and Aero had insisted she go along. Tyrion didn't mind that part. He enjoyed the young queen's companionship. He didn't enjoy, however, that his squire turned into a bumbling buffoon around her. Bronn gave the boy a swift slap on the back of his head.

"Podrick recently lost his virginity," Tyrion announced loudly to Aero as she was walking beside him. "Didn't you, Pod?"

The boy's ears reddened and he muttered something that sounded similar to "Yes, m'lord," but Aero couldn't be sure. They made for odd looking company—Tyrion led the way down the path into the edge of the Kingswood where they were awaiting Prince Doran of House Martell. Aero, wearing a deep black silk dress with black pearls sewn into the bodice, her thin gold circlet crown, and the sword Tyrion had grown accustomed to seeing her wear everywhere, brought with her the new Lady Bet and the blond boy that always seemed to accompany her. Tyrion had suspected that the queen also wore her trousers underneath the dress and confirmed this when she had made to mount her horse earlier and he saw her worn boots and a flash of black pants as she tossed a leg over her horse. Bet and Evann made to stand in the back with Podrick while Bronn leaned carelessly against a tree looking bored. Men from the city watch gathered several paces behind them talking amongst themselves.

"Truly, the women that Littlefinger hires are artists," Tyrion continued. Joking was one of his many self-defense mechanism to hide his anxiousness. The Martells and the Lannisters were not friends.

The young queen smiled and plucked the dagger Bronn was using to clean under his fingernails out of his hand. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

Tyrion's hand flew to his chest in mock surprise. "Gasp. You wound me."

Bronn reached to take his dagger back from the queen and she held it just out of his grasp, twirling it around her hand "My counselors were very thorough in my education of the Lannister family," she confided in them as the blade twirling through her fingers caught the light breaking through the trees and scattered it around them. "Tywin, clever, manipulative and perpetually disappointed in his children. Cersei, cunning, ambitious, and deadly. Jaime, bold, brave and uses any means necessary to get what he wants. And Tyrion. The Imp. Smarter than his siblings, witty, with an insatiable lust that will likely kill him sooner rather than later."

"They make herbal remedies for that now," he countered.

The young queen grinned widely and casually flicked Bronn's knife so that it stuck into the tree barely a finger's width from his head. He looked at her incredulously.

"I find that I very much enjoy your company," Aero smiled down at Tyrion.

He shook his head and looked down at his small feet. "I'm afraid I am much too old for you and you are much too tall for me. Then there's that whole snag about already being married."

"So perhaps we should be friends then."

The sound of hooves distracted them as a group of travel worn men approached on the narrow path. Podrick began naming several of the sigils from the banners and Aero stepped back to stand next to Evann and Bet as Tyrion introduced himself to the men. She was only half paying attention to what they were saying as she was looking over the sigils for the red sun and spear when she heard one of the men say "Prince Oberyn." She could see from Tyrion's face that even as he heralded Prince Oberyn as being a renowned warrior, this unexpected turn of events was not welcome. She knew of the blood feud between the Lannisters and the Martells. Prince Doran was said to be level headed and diplomatic whereas Dorne's second son, Oberyn, was all spit and fire. The men trudged past them, horses in lazy lines as they headed toward the ferry to take them across Blackwater Rush and into the city.

Tyrion kicked at the dirt in frustration and Podrick heaved a sigh as he let the Baratheon/Lannister banner tilt so that he could carry it horizontally.

"Now where?" Bronn asked though he had very little interest in the matter.

Aero stepped forward again. "I may have an idea."

They arrived at Littlefinger's brothel sooner than she expected. Tyrion was small, but on horseback he was as fast as any man. Evann dismounted first and helped Bet down from behind Aero on their shared horse. Bet, being unaccustomed to riding, couldn't handle a horse on her own. When Bet was free, Aero brought her boots out of the stirrups, tossed her leg over the gelding's neck and slid down with a perfect grace that Bet secretly envied. Bronn instructed them to leave the horses with the boy out front. Tyrion flipped a coin at him. The boy caught it in the air and tipped his hat at Lord Tyrion as he passed.

The air was so heavy with scented oils that it made Aero's nose burn. She suspected it was to cover up the smell of sex, but thought better of it than to ask. The brothel itself was lavishly decorated with silks and dark jewel toned walls. Shaders on the windows cast geometric shadows on the floors where the light flooded in the large windows.

Women met them as they entered the foyer. Podrick blushed a deep red and looked down at his shoes whereas Bronn rested his hand on the pommel of his sword and stood a little straighter. _'Two types of men,'_ Aero thought with amusement.

Bet wrapped her arms around herself, uncomfortable with returning to this place. Her insecurities washed to the front of her mind wondering what she would do if Aero decided to leave her here. A dressmaker had made her clothes fit for a lady, but she still didn't feel it on the inside. She pulled her arms tighter around herself and felt the tiny pearls sewn into the long white gown, made to match Aero's black one, pressed into her skin.

Bet heard a cackle behind her and turned, unconsciously moving closer to Aero. "Well if it isn't the help come back in fancy clothes!" one of the women cawed, reaching out for Bet. Bet scrambled to move out of the woman's reach and ended up bumping into Aero's back. "Did the Kingslayer sell you off to one of his rich friends? And now you're back because he's bored of you already?"

Aero turned just in time to see the woman's face fall seeing the crown on Aero's head and recognizing her error. It gave Aero great satisfaction to take Bet's hand in hers and watch the blood drain from the woman's face.

"Actually, _she_ is quite satisfied," Aero responded. "Thank you for your concern." The woman could only stare as Aero kissed Bet on temple and gently ushered her toward Evann. "Evann, would you mind escorting my sister outside and staying with her. It seems she's not welcome here." She gave him a discreet wink so that the others couldn't see.

"As you wish, Your Grace." Evann enunciated her title slowly for effect and nodded obediently. He motioned Bet to the door using his hand on the small of her back to reassure her he was with her. When he knew they were in the clear, he returned Aero's wink and flashed smile at her, happy to be a part of her game if it meant teaching that horrible woman a lesson. In any case, he was happy to get out. The women had started looking at him like they were a pack of wild tigers and he was a helpless baby boar they wanted to maul.

"Now." Aero clapped her hands together and stared down at the woman that had been rude to Bet. "Oberyn Martell. Where is he?"

The woman led them to an exclusive room near the back. The gauzy curtains were pulled to, casting an ethereal glow over the room including the mass of bodies on the bed in the center of the room. The Prince of Dorne lay among the figures, their limbs tangled together and resting in leisure.

"Some people to see you, my lord." The woman bowed slightly and backed out of the room quickly.

Prince Oberyn's eyes were closed as he addressed them. "Ah. Yes. And who might that be? A Lannister man? Seems I can't even take a shit in this city without running into a Lannister."

His muscles tensed as he extracted himself from among the whores wearing only his trousers. A servant handed him his light undershirt and he pulled it over his head.

"My welcoming committee," he laughed condescendingly at the four of them—a man, a woman, a boy, and a dwarf. He gave them the briefest of glances before turning away to accept a goblet of wine from another servant. "And who of you is responsible for finding me?"

"I am." Aero admitted, her face impassive as she moved farther into the room.

The Dornish prince turned, curious now. His eyes flited between her fine silk dress, the thin gold crown she wore on her brow, and the marks that flowed down her arms like a whirling stream. She looked like a memory from a dream. Her face was like a word on the tip of his tongue. His brow furrowed. He knew her, but he couldn't place her. She wasn't Dornish, but she was the kind of woman a Dornishman should want. Firm in all the right places and, by the looks of her, deadly. What use was a woman if she was merely for decoration like how they raised them here in the capital? Here, she was considered a savage. In Dorne, she would be worshiped. Though, as he let his eyes trail down her body, he couldn't imagine her underneath him. Perhaps because she reminded him so much of his daughters.

"And who are you, woman?" he asked with contempt. Regardless of her resemblance to his daughters, if she was with the Lannisters, he wanted nothing to do with her. "Enough of you. Go and fetch us more wine."

Aero laughed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I don't fetch wine for pompous princes. Especially one that so easily forgets the little girl he taught to catch fireflies."

Prince Oberyn's eyes lit up in astonishment and he whipped around to stare at her. Of course she was the tiny queen he had adored when his father would sail West to trade with Eryatheia. He remembered her marks on her thin, gangly arms. He was already past twenty when they met. At four, she was already too tall to really control her too-long limbs and was very clumsy. She was only eight when Robert's Rebellion began and Dorne, mourning the death of their favorite daughter Elia, closed itself off from other nations unless their goods were necessary for survival.

Oberyn shook his head, emotions ranging from excitement at seeing her to the panic of her being in King's Landing with Lannister men. She was still just a girl. She didn't know how dangerous Westeros could be.

Aero's face broke into a wide smile as she moved closer to him. She had forgotten how much she missed him, the dashing prince that would bring her presents from faraway lands. He brought her a doll once and she threw it in the sea. The next time, he brought her a dagger and she wouldn't be separated from him until he left on his ship for Dorne a fortnight later.

"Little Queen." He smiled back at her and closed the paces between them, lifting her from the floor and spun them around. He pulled her into a tight hug as her dress swished around them both. It was strange to think she was a woman grown. She was still eight years old in his heart.

"You have gotten old," she laughed, tugging at the grey strands in his hair.

He set her back down on the floor, but did not let her go. "And you weigh a lot more than the last time I picked you up," he joked.

Aero let her head rest in the crook of his neck. Though she had grown, he still stood half-a-hand taller than her. "You promised you would come back."

Oberyn let out a deep sigh that made the baby hairs on Aero's temple flutter. "I couldn't, Little Queen."

"I know. I have something for you." Aero pulled away from him and twisted a small ring from her middle finger. The small gold filigree twisted delicately around a glittering red sunstone and sent fractals of light when it caught the sun. She never wore it, save for today. Palm open, she offered the ring to Oberyn.

He took it, hesitating, and twisted it between his fingers. "Elia's ring. I gave her this ring. How did you come by this?"

"One of Gentian's men overheard a sellsword in a bar bragging that he had taken it from the cold dead hand of Elia herself. He was auctioning it off." Oberyn's face hardened at her words. "It never made it to auction. I found the man and sliced him from his navel to his nose. The only man I've ever killed out of hate. I thought I'd be giving it to Doran today, but you-"

"How old?" he asked, cutting her off.

She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I was fifteen."

He cursed and kicked at the floor, turning his back to her. He tried to reel in his emotions, but it was futile. He turned again and hugged her roughly, kissing her temple, her forehead, her cheeks. "You should not have this burden—this life of killing. You are too young. You are only a girl."

She shoved at his chest, surprising him. "You taught your daughters to fight," she spat. In truth, she thought he would be proud of her. It hurt that he wasn't.

"Aye. I did. Because Dornish women are still subjects of Westeros. I wanted them to be able to defend themselves because Elia could not." He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "But you are Eryatheian. You have no wars to fight. Your country has had peace for over a hundred years."

"You forget the Grey Lion defeat," she reminded him.

He spat on the floor at their feet. "Always a fucking Lannister," he growled with disdain and shot a look at Tyrion who seemed to be waiting patiently. The brothel workers had slipped out the other door and left a beautiful olive-skinned woman with black hair sitting at the edge of the bed behind them.

Oberyn ran his hands from Aero's shoulders down her arms, testing her muscles. Her skin was soft, but not the muscles underneath. Years of training had left her hard. ' _Yes,_ ' he thought gliding his hands across her stomach and feeling the muscles of her abdomen tighten. She had the build of dancer and the strength of a warrior. "Are you good?" he asked as he walked around her, examining her with a critical eye.

"Better than you," she replied, a bold playfulness in her tone.

"Still cheeky, then?" he laughed and smacked her behind good-humoredly. "You might have to prove that to me." He took her hand and pulled her toward the center of the room where the woman stood. She was undeniably gorgeous, but as she drew closer, Aero could see the age creeping into the woman's face in the way that the skin at her jaw was beginning to loosen and the wrinkles forming around her heavily charcoaled eyes. "Come. Meet my paramour, Ellaria Sand."

The woman did not bow but instead offered Aero a smile and dipped her head in courtesy. "Queen Aero."

"Just Aero," the queen responded, gladly taking the woman by the shoulders and kissing her on either cheek. As in Dorne, Eryatheia did not shame bastards.

The sound of someone clearing their throat reminded Aero that Tyrion, Bronn, and Podrick were still in the room. She had almost forgotten about them in her excitement. "Pardon my interjection, Prince Oberyn," Tyrion began. It was he that cleared his throat. "I was sent to welcome you to the city. I'd also like a word with you in private. If it suits you."

Oberyn stared down at the small man, his lip curled as though he had just stepped in something that smelled really terrible. "Why would I go somewhere private with a Lannister? I am perfectly at my leisure here," he replied, gesturing to the surroundings. "And I have only just found a long lost friend. Away with you, imp."

"Lord Tyrion is nothing like Tywin," Aero assured Oberyn. She snaked her hand in the crook of his arm and pulled him toward the odd assortment of men. "He and I are friends."

Oberyn sized up the men, lingering on Bronn. "And what are you? His hired killer?"

Bronn nodded. "It started that way, aye. Now I'm a knight."

"How did that come to pass?"

"Killed the right people, I suppose." Bronn smirked with his usual nonchalance, hand casually resting on the grip of his sword.

Oberyn laughed and motioned to one of the brothel workers. "We'll need a few more girls. And a nice fit young gentlemen for the queen."

"No, Oberyn." Aero shook her head with a chuckle. "No men for me."

He picked up his wine from the table and tossed back the remains of the glass. "Girls for you, too?" He smiled. "Ellaria likes girls. She likes sharing girls." His eyebrows lifted and Aero flushed slightly.

"Not girls either. I have somewhere I have to be."

"Ah, but my love, you've only just got here," Oberyn pleaded, taking her hand.

"I'm working at a forge here." Aero gestured with her head toward the door. "Learning from Tobho Mott to work Valyrian Steel. I just need to change out of my dress."

"And you're going there now?" he asked, reaching for his tunic that lay across a chair off to the side. "Change here. I will walk with you."

"You don't have to," she assured him. "I have someone to accompany me."

"I insist." He kissed the top of her head. "You will be okay here until I return, my darling?" he called over his shoulder. Ellaria was already lounging back on the bed, her long legs crossed as she flirtatiously eyed young Podrick, who had the good sense to look worried.

"I'm sure I can find some entertainment," she responded, lying back into the soft, silk-covered cushions.

Aero didn't anticipate changing her clothes in a brothel, but neither did she anticipate Prince Oberyn coming to King's Landing instead of Prince Doran. But she supposed no one would think twice about a half naked woman in brothel if someone were to barge in on her while she removed her dress. Not that there was any chance of that as Bronn was guarding the door while Tyrion had his private conversation with Oberyn. Bet retrieved the saddlebag with Aero's other clothes in them and helped to wrap her breasts with a long piece of cloth. Aero fingered the thin circlet crown, frowning at it for a moment before shoving it into the bottom of the saddlebag with her dress and handing it all to Bet.

"I want to know everything!" Oberyn exclaimed as he pulled her through the narrow city streets. The walk to Mott's shop was disappointingly short from Lord Baelish's brothel. Aero and Oberyn had fallen into a rhythm of telling stories and laughing as she leaned into him. She was happy to have something familiar in King's Landing that she didn't bring with her. Never having met Prince Doran, she was looking forward to meeting him, but much preferred the companionship of Oberyn. His easy smiles and teasing reminded her of being young—when she did not have the worries that she carried now.

Oberyn, not content to leave her at the door of the shop, passed through the elaborate doors and into the forge.

"A Dornishman," Mott remarked with excitement as soon as they entered. "Don't get many Dornishmen in the capital."

"We don't like the smell," Oberyn countered.

Mott let out a great, booming laugh and held out his hand for Oberyn to shake. The prince took the old blacksmith's hand and let his eyes wander over the shop as Aero made introductions.

"Master Mott, this is Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."

"I know who he is, Your Grace," Mott nodded. "I did my own apprenticeship under Master Yurell in Sunspear."

"Yurell was a legendary armorer in Dorne. One of the last true masters of Valyrian Steel," Oberyn explained to Aero, impressed with the old blacksmith. "And now you are teaching Aero." Oberyn reached out for her and wound his arm casually around her waist. "I imagine your father isn't terribly pleased with your choice of hobbies."

"Not at all," she stated proudly. "He tolerates it well enough. But he never was very good at telling me not to do something." Oberyn grinned widely and kissed the top of her head. "In any case," she continued, "Master Mott is also teaching Gendry to work Valyrian Steel." She searched the room for Gendry and found him in the corner next to the hearth helping Efain, the youngest apprentice, work the bellows.

Having grown accustomed to Aero more and more, Gendry felt the queen's presence immediately as she walked through the doors of the shop. He could feel the air around him shift and her voice carried over the sound of the bellows pushing air into the hearth.

' _A prince_ ,' he thought bitterly as she introduced the man accompanying her to Master Mott. The same feeling welled up in him as when she first brought Ser Jaime to the shop. Like Ser Jaime, the foreign prince was older. He carried a sword. He dressed in fine silks. And, most importantly, he was born into a noble family—a royal family. ' _Probably a suitor looking to marry her._ ' He frowned at the thought. _'A suitor that needed to learn to keep his hands to himself.'_

Aero caught his eye and beckoned him over to join them. He patted Efrain on the back and moved around the thin boy just growing into his limbs to make his way over to the company. He picked up a damp rag at his worktable and tried to scrub his hands of soot along the way.

"Your Grace." He inclined his head at Aero and then to man beside her. From far enough away, they might look related. They had the same black hair and a similar skin color, but that was where the resemblances ended. Aero's face, despite the sharpeness of her cheekbones, was open and welcoming. But the man's face was hard and lined. His deep set black eyes were more than a little unnerving.

"Gendry, I've asked you to call me Aero," she chided the young smith. "And you as well," she added, looking pointedly at Mott.

"Apologies." Mott nodded with a slight bow of his head. "The lowborn are not usually allowed to address highborn without their titles in Westeros." A commotion sounded behind them as a young man with a large seahorse broach entered the shop along with several other men behind him. The man gave Aero a once over, taking in her very unladylike clothing and rolled his eyes. Mott politely excused himself to wait on the potential customers and Aero, Gendry, and Oberyn moved farther into the shop, away from the door.

"I meant no offense," Gendry assured her as they walked.

Aero looped her arm with his and let her hand rest on his shoulder. "And you've given none. I just prefer to be called Aero." She untwined her arm from his when the group found an out-of-the-way spot near the left corner of the room beside Halvic's worktable. "No more 'Your Grace,' yeah?"

"Yeah."

Oberyn watched the pair, very conscious of how they reacted to one another. Aero had always been a very outwardly affectionate person. He hadn't seen her in many years, but he could see that at least that had not changed. When she was small, she was very taken with him and thought nothing of crawling into his lap, ignoring the sighs of her father. He would tell her stories of Dorne and she would fall asleep, her little head trustingly resting against his chest. He would carefully pick her up and carry her up to her bed leaving Aero's mother to finish tucking her in.

"On the other hand," Oberyn interrupted when Gendry and Aero's gazes lingered on one another for a beat longer than was necessary. "I am vain enough that I enjoy others using my title."

Aero caught hold of her senses and gave Oberyn a small apologetic smile. "Gendry," she began, motioning to Oberyn. "Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."

Oberyn picked up one of the hammers strewn across Halvic's table, testing its weight. "Aero says that you are to be trained in working with Valyrian Steel," he remarked. "That is a lot of early mornings and late nights, I take it? I understand folding Valyrian Steel is no easy task."

Gendry shrugged at the older man's comment. "We've only just split the greatsword. Valyrian Steel is harder to separate than regular steel. We're supposed to be working on elongating the halves today."

"Greatsword?"Oberyn asked, surprise clear in his face. "Forgive me, but where did your master acquire a greatsword made of Valyrian Steel?"

Aero dipped her head, still shamed at having to destroy Ice to learn how to work the steel. It didn't occur to her until just then that Tywin Lannister doesn't destroy houses because he has to. He enjoys it. "Tywin Lannister is having the Stark's sword reforged into two," she spat bitterly.

"And you will help him do this?" Oberyn tossed the hammer he was holding recklessly back onto the table in his frustration.

Gendry and Aero shared a conspiratory glance. "We have a plan," she assured Oberyn, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"Aero," Gendry hissed, warning her not to go into detail.

She moved closer to them so that only Oberyn and Gendry could hear her hushed voice. Despite his warning, she continued. "Gendry is going to help me spell the two swords. Only those loyal to the Starks will be able wield them. Any other man that tries will have… accidents."

"Accidents, you say?" Oberyn took a moment to pause and consider all that the word 'accidents' entailed. "I like this plan." His eyes turned to Gendry, suspicious. "And you are helping her? Why? If the Lannisters find out-"

"They won't," Aero interrupted. "We'll work on the spelling at night after everyone has gone home. He and I are the only ones that know. And now you." She moved to stand beside Gendry and linked her arm with his, her hand resting in the crook of his elbow. "I trust Gendry. He won't betray me."

"Is that right?" Oberyn asked, glaring up at Gendry, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his dagger. "If you lie to me, boy, I could very easily kill you where you stand. I have no mercy for liars and men that would hurt someone I love."

Gendry set his jaw and hardened his face. "You can cut me down if you like. Aero is my queen. She always has been; I just didn't know it."

Oberyn removed his hand from his dagger and began to fan himself. "It's quite hot in here, is it not? I imagine clothing is rare on warm days." A twinkle of mischief shone in Oberyn's eye before he turned and motioned for her to take his arm. "Aero, will you see me out?"

Gendry declaring his loyalty to her had touched her deeply—even as it surprised her. Like his trust, she knew his loyalty had to be earned. She wondered what she could have possibly done to deserve it. Aero balanced up on her toes and kissed Gendry's soot stained cheek.

Even as she situated herself at Oberyn's side, his arm wrapped around her as she was seeing him out, she turned to see that Gendry was watching her.

"He's very handsome, your blacksmith," Oberyn commented offhandedly when they were back out in the sunshine.

"He's not _my_ blacksmith," she argued.

"He seems to think he is."

She smiled at that, allowing herself to put reality on pause for a moment and imagine that Gendry really was hers. "He is quite handsome, isn't he?

.

"You took her to a brothel without telling me!" Jaime was livid. He had yet to get to the point of throwing things, but with the way his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, he definitely wanted to throw things.

"I was going to find Prince Oberyn," Tyrion rationalized, calmly swirling his wine around in his glass. "She was the one that suggested that he might be at the brothel. As it turns out, she was right. She also seemed surprisingly at ease in a whorehouse, but that's a fantasy for another time, I suppose."

Jaime huffed and kicked the heavy wooden chair, cursed at himself, and began to pace the floor of his chambers again. "Anything could have happened to her there."

Tyrion shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Bronn was there. And so was her blond boy, Evann, and Podrick. Surely between the three of them, we would have been able to fight off a small attack."

"That's not the point,' Jamie growled. "You put her in danger."

Tyrion had guessed for some time now that his brother's affections for the young queen were not out of mere gratitude for returning the hand he had lost. He couldn't say if it amused him or saddened him more. "Careful now, brother, or someone might get it in their heads that you care about someone other than yourself."

Jaime halted his pacing and dropped down into the chair opposite his brother and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Curse that woman!" he exclaimed, his voiced muffled by his hands. "Why does she have to disregard everything I say? I told her, didn't I? I told her not to go putting herself into dangerous situations. And as soon as I'm not with her, she goes to a whorehouse and makes friends with the Red Viper."

"To be fair, she seemed to already be friends with Prince Oberyn."

"What?" Jaime dropped his hands away from his face and fell back farther into the chair.

Tyrion clicked at the metal of his glass with a fingernail. "He told me that he knew her when she was very young. Eryatheia hadn't traded with King's Landing in years, but they still traded with the North and with Dorne until Robert's Rebellion. Oberyn and his father used to travel to Cylix to trade and visit. If you remember, Oberyn's aunt, Lara Martell, married King Ixion's brother."

Jaime huffed and stood again to continue his pacing. "Oh, who can keep track of the Martells? I don't even care enough to keep track of all the Lannisters."

"He seems taken with her," Tyrion commented offhandedly looking for a reaction in his brother. "Not in the way that you would expect from a man that has a reputation for fucking half of Westeros," he added, downing another gulp of his wine. "More like how I would imagine one would treat a sister. If one's sister were not so pernicious and spiteful as ours."

Jaime paused for a moment to look over his shoulder at Tyrion. He hoped Oberyn didn't treat Aero how he treated _his_ sister. "I will rest easier when this wedding is over,' Jaime admitted with a sigh. "I don't like all these strangers in our city."

"And when Queen Aero goes?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jaime asked bitterly as he yanked open his wardrobe.

"It means that I am cleverer than you," Tyrion called amid Jaime's shuffling to find a shirt he liked. "Not that you're that hard to read when every conversation I've had with you since her coming has had at least some mention of the young queen."

Jaime pulled the linen shirt he had been wearing all day over his head and replaced it with a clean one. "She's a visiting royal without a queensguard. It's vexing. If anything were to happen to her here, her father would declare a war with us."

"Oh, yes," Tyrion sassed with false sincerity. "I'm certain that's the reason you've been beside yourself trying to please her."

"She gave me back my hand!" Jaime yelled, suddenly rounding on Tyrion. His face fell, his eyes searching the ground and he let out a long breath. "I owe her everything. Do you understand that anything I do with my life from now on, good or bad, it's because of her?" Tyrion, stunned into silence, sat and weighed his brother's words. "It's a second chance," Jaime continued, shrugging on a tunic over his linen shirt and cinching his sword belt around his waist. "I don't want to waste it."

"So what will you do with your second chance?" Tyrion finally asked, regarding Jaime curiously.

"I don't know. But whatever it is, I feel like I owe it to her to try to make her proud." Jaime sat on the edge of his bed a few paces away from where Tyrion sat. "Do you think she would have liked me before I returned from Harrenhal?" he asked.

Tyrion thought for a moment. Impulsive. Hot-headed. Quick-tempered. Those were all words that described Jaime. They still described Jaime, but something had changed in him while he was captured by the Stark army and his journey back to King's Landing that he wouldn't talk about. Humility. Compassion. A sense of something bigger. "No," Tyrion finally decided. "I don't think she would have liked you."

Jaime looked away in shame. "I don't think so either." With that, Jaime left the room without a glance behind him before Tyrion could even ask him where he was going.

.

Aero made her way through the darkened city streets and the only thing she could think about was how luxurious a long hot bath would feel at the moment. Under Mott's watchful eye, she and Gendry had worked until after the sun had gone down and both were sore with aching muscles. It was disappointing that Mott stayed with them until they had decided it was enough work for the day, but now that they had the basics of Valyrian Steel, Mott would trust them to do more on their own.

The process was longer than she expected. With regular steel, the metal stayed moderately malleable for a bit after the steel had lost its red-from-the-fire glow. Valyrian Steel, however, could only be folded and hammered down when it was still glowing. Aero had new singe marks in her shirt sleeves to prove it. The swords required so many trips to the hearth that they would let one sword be reheating while Gendry and Aero stood on opposite sides of the long iron anvil and worked the other, taking turns hammering and folding, hammering and folding again and again and again.

Aero rolled her neck trying to stretch out the tight muscles when she pushed open the door to her chamber only to find Cersei sitting in a chair near the fireplace across the table from a very frightened looking Bet.

"I was having a glass of wine with your new sister while we waited for you," Cersei greeted the young queen. "Lovely girl."

Surprised, though she refused to show it, Aero tried very hard to maintain a friendly demeanor that she did not feel. "Bet, I missed dinner. Would you mind seeing if the cook would heat up some stew for me?" Aero asked the blond just to get her out of the room and away from Cersei.

Bet nodded, relieved. "Of course. Pardon me."

They watched Bet gather her skirt around her and make a hasty exit. Aero thought she would follow right behind if she could.

"Sit with me and have a glass of wine," Cersei insisted, gesturing toward the pitcher of wine on the table and the extra glass meant for her.

Something about Cersei made Aero feel as though she should always be on the defensive. She certainly wasn't about to let her guard down for the queen best known for her claws. Aero sat across from the older queen, taking Bet's now empty seat. Cersei poured a glass of wine from the pitcher and pushed it toward Aero. Aero eyed it hesitantly noticing that Bet's glass hadn't been touched. At Aero's hesitancy, Cersei reached across the table and took Aero's glass, drank from it, and sat it back in front of her.

"If I were going to kill you, I assure you that the plan would not involve poisoning you with wine from my personal stores," she told Aero.

Aero held the queen's eyes and took a deep draught of the sweet red wine. Cersei lifted her glass and also took a drink. There was to be a truce for tonight, it seemed. Setting her glass back on the table, Cersei circled her finger around the top of the rim. "We've never had a discussion, you and I," she said.

"I had hoped to avoid it," Aero replied, honestly.

Cersei smirked. "You're very direct. I like that about you."

"I take it that's the only thing you like about me."

"You're wrong." Cersei shook her head and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. "I appreciate very much that you're not like Lady Margaery with her false compliments and her talent for manipulation. You don't separate your words from your feelings. It's refreshing."

Aero let the silence linger, until Cersei continued. "I am also willing to admit that I am jealous you were trained to carry a sword. I never thought it particularly fair that Jaime got to learn how to use weapons and I had to stay inside and do needlework."

Aero swirled the alcohol around in her glass enjoying the small bubbles it created. "It seems to me you've discovered a fondness for other types of weapons."

Cersei narrowed her eyes at the queen. "I never expected you to be intelligent. With the very minute bits of gossip and information we were able to obtain from Eryatheian traders, none of them mentioned you were intelligent."

"I heard the opposite of you," Aero countered. "Very smart. Very calculating. Very deadly."

"And now that you've met me?"

"Truer words have never been spoken to me," she confessed. "I think about you often, did you know that? Even before I met you. When I was learning histories, my tutors also had me learn the history of Westeros. I say 'make' like it was a hardship, but, truthfully, I loved it. Children of the Forrest. White walkers. Wildlings. The Wall. The beautiful Targaryens and the dragons they rode into battle." Aero allowed her wistful expression to show through for a moment before growing serious. "And then there was Robert's Rebellion. Robert, brave, but not so noble, struck down Rhaegar at the Trident. And you, I loved hearing stories about you. A queen, just like me. Pledged to marry the handsome young heir to the Iron Throne. Then your father declared himself for Robert by sacking King's Landing. And you were married to Robert instead."

Cersei, bored of the history she already knew, poured herself another glass and dismissed Aero as a fanciful child. "I'm sure you have a point coming up soon."

"I wondered if being queen would make me like you," Aero admitted. Her eyes grew distant and she began picking at her fingernails. "The stories people would tell, not about King's Landing, but about you specifically… They would mention your beauty first. How you were all gold except for your green eyes with a face of a sea siren that could lead fishermen to their deaths." She paused to take a breath. "I think you were idealistic at first. Proud to be the queen and stand at your husband's side. But then I also heard stories of how Robert became a drunk, bedding women as he liked. You lost your first child—his child, and then all the idealism went away. Because he was still in love with a dead woman." Aero risked glancing up at Cersei whose scowl marred her beautiful face. "Those were the stories that kept me up at night. Would I be forced into a marriage with a man like Robert? Would my idealism turn to bitterness and rot in my stomach? I didn't want that."

Cersei nodded, her scowl softening. Would she do it all over again, given the chance? It was a question she had asked herself before. "I loved him. At first," Cersei recalled. "But you're right. He loved a woman cold and dead in her grave and I was alive and he still didn't want me."

"I think about how lonely it must have been for you. How you must have taken solace in your children. And it makes me sorry for your losses." Cersei's sordid past was almost enough to make Aero pity the woman. But Cersei would never accept pity. It was beneath her. Aero smiled softly to herself trying to imagine the rage that Cersei would fly into if the older woman knew that Aero did pity her to some extent. "The second thing people would bring up after your beauty was your cold, calculating mind. Like your father's."

Instead of being offended, Cersei looked rather pleased with herself. She enjoyed being compared to her father. "But I don't think you're very much like Tywin at all," Aero continued. "You let your emotions get the better of you when you should think through things rationally. I don't mean that with malevolence or spite. It's one of my flaws as well," Aero was quick to add. "But you're also weak." Cersei frowned at Aero and poured herself another glass of wine, already having finished three. "You use others to get what you want, despite the lives you ruin—the people that die. You're vain. You're selfish. And you have no regard for human life. I told you once that I know your secrets. Do you believe me?"

"No," Cersei said plainly with a lift of her eyebrow.

"Why? Because if I knew your secrets, I could destroy you?"

Cersei lowered her voice to a sweet murmur. "If you knew my secrets, little queen, they would keep you up at night and haunt your dreams."

Aero could feel Cersei's energy. Her memories. Brushing against Cersei's consciousness felt like being stung by a wasp. "I know what really happened on Robert's hunting trip—the sedative your cousin slipped into the king's wine. I know Baratheon is not the true name of your children."

Cersei shrugged. "Rumors. Gossip."

"Maggy the Frog and a little girl that fell down a well."

Cersei's eyes went wide and she had to set down her glass because her hand had started to visibly shake. "No," the older queen shook her head in disbelief.

"Six-and-ten for him, and three for you," Aero recited, hearing the words of Maggy the Frog in her head.

"Stop."

"Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds."

"Stop it."

Still, Aero persisted. "Beware the valonqar, Cersei Lannister. But which one is it? Jaime has changed. He is a better man now that he has escaped your clutches. And Tyrion holds as much love for you as you hold for him. 'When your tears have drowned you, no one will be able to save you.'"

"I said stop!" Cersei's legs wobble as she rushes to stand up from the table. Her body is practically trembling.

"I do know your secrets, Cersei Lannister," Aero reaffirmed to assert her control of the situation. "But unlike you, I would never use them against you unless you give me a reason to."

Aero took the cup of wine in front of her and downed it in three gulps. She slammed the glass back down on the table with a very satisfying thud that echoed in the large room. "Give me a reason and I will lay your secrets bare for the world to see," Aero warned. "Go after the ones that I love, and I will see that you never have a moment's peace. Consider this as friendly advice."

Saying nothing, Cersei walked quickly, albeit a little unsteady, to the door and slammed it shut behind her. Aero waited until she heard Cersei's heels click down the stone hallway before she breathed a sigh of relief and fell back into her chair.

* * *

A/N: Thanks, Boomer, for giving me the push I needed to get off my ass and finish this chapter. It's another long one. One of these days I'll figure out how to write shorter chapters. Not today.


	9. Taking Flight

Instead of waking up to the sound of Evann sharpening his swords, quiet whisperings invaded Aero's dreams and roused her from sleep. She had kicked the covers off of herself sometime in the middle of the night and she turned to find Bet's spot in the bed empty. Bet had taken to sleeping in the bed with Aero since that first night. In the beginning, Aero found it a little unnerving. Even the idea of having a girl friend was unnerving to Aero as she had never been particularly interested in things that interested other girls. But Bet was different. Bet didn't like to talk about things like court gossip or dresses or men. She liked to talk about ideas and the books she's read.

The second night that Bet stayed with Aero, Bet had pulled a candle to set on the nightstand so that she could read her book in bed. The third night, Aero was feeling particularly agitated—with whom or with what, she couldn't even remember. Bet offered to read aloud to her. With very little convincing, Aero retrieved a book that she had brought with her from Eryatheia from one of her trunks. It was a book of poetry and stories from ancient Eryos, the name of Eryatheia before the men from the West came and conquered the nomadic tribes. It was the book her mother read to her before bed when she was very little.

That night, Aero rested her head in Bet's lap as the blond girl read to her. The cadence and softness of her voice relaxed Aero's muscles and before Bet had made it through the first few pages, Aero was already asleep. Aero didn't know, but Bet stayed awake a little longer that night watching over her new sister and petting the baby hairs at Aero's temple.

Rolling over the feather mattress and out of bed this morning was different. The whispering that had brought her out of her dreams stopped when she stirred. Evann and Bet sat quietly sipping tea at the table next to the fireplace. Thinking nothing of it, Aero stretched in her thin nightshirt and with a yawn, joined them at the table, propping her feet on Evann's knee and helping herself to the small plate of biscuits next to the tea pot.

"You look like hell," Evann chirped cheerfully, pouring her a cup of tea. Bet kicked him underneath the table. "Well, she does," he defended. "You smell like hell, too."

"I'll call for your bath," Bet interrupted before Evann could comment any more on Aero's hygiene. Bet stood from the table and left to fetch the women that normally bring bathwater for the queen, leaving Evann and Aero contentedly sipping their tea.

"Back to the forge today?" Evann asked, leaning back and biting into a biscuit. The crumbs caught in the sparse blond beard he was attempting to grow out. At the moment, the hair was growing in patches instead of a consistent coverage.

"Back to the forge," she nodded.

"And the blacksmith?" he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Mott is a good mentor," Aero shrugged.

Evann sighed. "You know I meant the young one—Gendry."

"Gendry has become a good friend."  
"I meant is he keeping his hands to himself like I told him to?" he asked, pressing his finger and his thumb to the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on already, and the spot right between his eyes always seemed to hurt when Aero was being particularly hard headed. "Bet was telling me that you came in late last night. And several nights."

"Did she?" Aero's complete nonchalance did nothing but annoy him more.

"Or maybe you're not with the blacksmith all night. Maybe you're sneaking around with Jaime Lannister."

Aero gritted her teeth, willing herself not to kick her best friend. "I'm not sneaking around with anyone. And this obsession you have with Jaime Lannister is getting old."

Bet cautiously opened the door expecting the two to be in another screaming match. She supposed that's what siblings do when they've grown as close as Evann and Aero had. Before, Bet had been jealous of the relationship that they had. But the more she observed, the more she saw how Evann never looked at Aero with lust in his eyes. More often, it was annoyance and protectiveness. And always with love. She understood now that Evann saw Aero as a sister. His best friend and his sister. And it made watching them together endlessly entertaining.

"Am I interrupting?" Bet asked as she pushed the door the rest of the way open for the women carrying buckets of heated water for Aero's bath.

"She won't tell me if the blacksmith is getting handsy," Evann grunted with his arms crossed.

"He's being insufferable," Aero countered.

Bet smiled. Gods help her, she already loved them both.

Bet helped Aero get washed up, letting the young queen lounge in the hot water a bit longer to help her still-sore muscles. Evann sat companionably at the table with his back turned to them sharpening his swords. As Bet pulled a clean pair of trousers out of Aero's clothes chest, a small package fell out from between the folds of the black pants. Looking closer, Bet saw that they were dozens of hiltless black daggers rolled up and secured in a black canvas pouch. Just another of the oddities that Aero's trunks contained. Only yesterday while she was cleaning, Bet found the most magnificent crown tucked in a box underneath several cloaks. It was long, thin shards of onyx, obsidian, and blood red garnet layered to look like four crossed feathers at the front and in among the black shards was laced with white gold so that the feathers looked like they had veins running through them. Bet quickly looked around to make sure no one else had seen her discovery and tucked it back in its hiding spot much the same way she did with the daggers she had just found. While Aero and Evann were enjoying arguing with one another, Bet quietly picked up the daggers, wrapped them up, and placed them back in the chest.

With Aero dressed and sword belt on, Bet sent the young queen and Evann on their way before she climbed the tower to the library where she settled into her favorite dusty old armchair next to the window to start another book.

* * *

Aero made an excuse to shake Evann before she reached Mott's. She knew that, if given the opportunity, Evann would try to pry into their business. And until the swords were spelled and finished with no one the wiser, Evann's life wasn't a risk she was willing to take even if she did trust him completely. She didn't, however, trust whoever else might be lurking around.

It was curious, though, that she showed up at Mott's shop to find that the doors were closed and barred. It didn't occur to her to knock. That would have been too easy. Instead, Aero turned the corner to investigate down the alley beside the building where Gendry had taken the mare to shoe. A metal gate blocked her path, but it was easy enough to climb. No one on the street even gave her a second glance as she pulled herself over the wrought iron gate. She approached the makeshift shoeing corral and noticed a rather large wet spot in the red dirt and an overturned half barrel that she recognized as one that Mott used to collect rain water. A dull thud sounded from the window above her like something heavy had been knocked over. A grunt followed and Aero's stomach dropped. Gendry lived above the shop. Someone could be attacking him. Without a thought other than 'Danger!' Aero pulled the thin hiltless dagger she kept in her boot and used it to unlatch the lock on the inside of the side door.

She shut the door soundlessly behind her and locked the door back. The boards above her head creaked under the weight of someone on the second floor. A large someone, by the sound of it. 'It could be Gendry,' she thought. But that didn't explain the grunt or the thud. Her heart leapt in her throat worried that something could be wrong—that he could be hurt. Gendry was always the one to open the shop and light the fires, after all. If the shop wasn't open it must mean something had kept him from opening it. She slipped the small dagger back into her boot and pulled another, more formidable, dagger from her belt—a gift from Oberyn. A dagger is a better choice of weapon in close quarters, he reminded her.

As softly as she could, she ascended the stairs to the second floor, staying as close to the wall as possible so the wood wouldn't creak as badly. The stairs led to landing that branched off into two doors. The one of the right was closed with no light visible underneath the door. The one on the left was slightly ajar and she could see flashes, quick glimpses of someone pacing and what looked like someone lying on the floor.

Aero struggled to control her wildly drumming heart as she crept closer to the door. Before she could talk herself out of it, and still seeing Gendry hurt or worse, she flung the door open and leapt into the room.

Gendry let out a very unmanly yelp and dove for the other side of the room. His heart racing, and his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps, he and Aero stood opposite one another, both incredibly confused especially as Gendry was very nearly naked.

Gendry's hair was disheveled and still dripping from his thorough wash in the water basin downstairs. Not expecting anyone, he opted to enjoy the breeze and only bothered to pull on his smallclothes while he tried to tidy up his room, as evidenced by the pile of dirty clothing on the floor in front of the door.

"I- I'm so sorry," Aero immediately began to apologize as she sheathed her dagger. "The door was locked and I heard a crash and I thought someone was trying to break in or someone was trying to hurt you so I came in the side door and I'm so sorry," she explained all in one breath. Only just realizing that Gendry was in his smallclothes, she quickly turned her back to him so that he could pull on a pair of trousers. "Sorry," she said again.

"It's-um-It's fine," Gendry sputtered as he fumbled for clean pants and pulled them on, not bothering to tie the string. He was more concerned at the mess of dirty clothes he had left on the floor and the state of his room in general. If he knew she would be in his sleeping quarters, he would have cleaned better. He moved to pick up the pile of clothes on the floor next to Aero's feet and she bent to help him.

"Sorry the shirts smell like sweat," he mumbled, embarrassed as he took the clothes from her and tossed them into a chest, slamming the lid shut.

"It's no problem," she shrugged. "If you're a blacksmith and you don't sweat, you would be very bad at your job. Sorry, again, for sneaking up on you."

"How _do_ you always manage to sneak up on me?" he asked, tightening the strings of his trousers. "I'm not usually such easy prey."

With Gendry's pants on, Aero felt comfortable enough to make herself at home and sit on the edge of his bed. "I'm a trained killer, remember?" she joked and patted her sword for validation. "If I wasn't stealthy, I'd be very bad at _my_ job."

Gendry remembered the first time he saw her, seeing the wildness in her and the sword at her hip, he suspected she had killed before. But getting to know her hand pushed the idea out of his head. Gendry scoffed and shook his head with a smile. "You've never killed anyone."

Aero's smiling eyes lost their humor and dropped to the floor. Gendry noticed her response and immediately regretted his assumption. "You've killed someone?" he asked with traces of shock and awe in his voice. As he thought about it, it made sense again. Aero was kind and affectionate, but he forgot that her dedication to her loved ones also meant that she would do anything to protect them.

Aero shrugged and fidgeted with her fingers as Gendry leaned against a small table he apparently had been using as a desk directly across from her. "It comes with keeping the peace. I'm not proud of it. It is what it is." Gendry's silence stabbed into her and it took a long moment before she could look up at him. His jaw was set the way she noticed it always was when he was thinking and he stared off into space, his eyes dark and thoughtful. "You look disappointed in me," she said when the quiet had grown too heavy to bear.

Gendry shook his head. "I'm not. Just trying to picture it, I guess." He looked at her, but she could see that his mind was somewhere else. "I never thought about it before—your duties, what you do outside of the forge. It never occurred to me to assume it was anything other than parties and wine and fancy clothes."

"Sometimes it is parties and wine and fancy clothes. But not always. Being a fair ruler gets…messy sometimes." She scooted farther back onto Gendry's bed until her back was resting against the wall and only her feet dangled off the straw mattress. "It's easy to give an order to kill someone when you sit on a throne. It's harder when you're the one that has to do the killing. You respect life more."

"Why do you have to be the one?" _'The one that kills,'_ he wanted to say.

"Because when a ruler sentences a man or woman to death, they should be the one to execute the person. Otherwise, death loses its meaning. I look at the face of the person I sentence to death so that I know my decision isn't made lightly. My family has taken this burden on themselves for over a thousand years." She plucked at a cuticle. "Does it scare you? That I've killed men?"

"No," he answered immediately, without hesitation. His eyes focused on her then, his mind no longer lost in his thoughts. "You're one of the best people I've met. I reckon if you killed someone, they probably deserved it." He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

Aero looked around, hoping to change the subject and while her eyes wandered the small room, they kept coming back to Gendry. He was lost in his own head again, still leaning against his desk. She had seen men without their shirts and in their smallclothes before. She and Evann had even swam naked in Bluebear Lake on several occasions. Her counselors had told her that modesty was much more of a concern for the people of Westeros than in Eryatheia. Never being particularly modest, herself, the idea was strange to her.

She had turned her back when she first entered the room, but with Gendry's attention occupied by something else, she took the opportunity to study his body. His wide shoulders had identical dimples where the muscles were pulled taunt and his broad chest was lightly dusted in dark hair that grew thicker in a line from his belly button that disappeared into his trousers. She enjoyed the way the light from the window haloed around him and the dramatic shadows it cast around the curve of his strong arms. It was a body built by hard work instead of vanity and it showed. A few small superfluous burn marks were scattered across his arms, chest, and abdomen and she held back a smile at the thought of a young Gendry being too stubborn to wear his leather apron. She had a couple of those burn marks as well.

Finally tearing her eyes away from Gendry, Aero explored the rest of the room. It was mostly bare but for a few essentials. A plain table and chair in the opposite corner underneath the window that he probably used as a desk and his eating table. Pieces of parchment were strewn across it at the moment, though she couldn't see what was on them from her spot on Gendry's small straw bed. Beside the desk were a couple of shelves with what she assumed was his meager food supply of wrapped up bread, cheese, and some dried meat. There were a few personal items, rolled up parchment, and what looked like a couple of clean shirts stacked on the shelves as well. Underneath was the chest he had shoved his dirty clothes into.

"So," Aero began pulling him out of his thoughts. "Why is the shop closed today?"

"I sent a message up to the Keep…that you didn't get, it seems. Since you broke into the shop anyway and scared half my life out of me." She gave him and apologetic smile while he continued. "Master Mott sent word early this morning that he was called down to the tourney grounds and we should rest today."

"Why was he needed at the tourney grounds?" she asked, thinking it was odd he would be pulled away from his work.

Gendry shrugged. "He didn't say." He leaned away from the table and bent down next to his clothing chest. He was digging for socks when Aero pushed herself off Gendry's bed and moved over to the table, vaguely interested at the parchments. She assumed it was letters, but when she saw that the parchments were actually full of drawings and designs for weapons and armor, she couldn't help but pick them up and flip through the pages.

"Are these yours?" she inquired, though she already knew the answer was yes.

Gendry had just pulled on the second sock when he looked up at what Aero had in her hands. "They're not finished yet," he protested and made to grab them from her. She held them out of his reach, his chest pushing against her in his effort to reclaim the papers.

He made another desperate grab for the papers, but Aero put her hand on his chest and held him off.

"They're beautiful," she breathed, dropping the pages back down to the table top as she kicked out the chair to sit in and study them more thoroughly. There were designs for armor that looked like dragon scales, swords, and spear heads. But the designs weren't just drawings, they had notations and measurements and ideas for embellishments with views from various angles. She also had pages like these in her workshop, though with not quite so much detail. She was enamored with the way he seemed to prefer the design of curved blades instead of longswords and the exquisite detail he put into embellishments of the armor.

"I do what Master Mott says while I'm here, but when I open my own shop, I want to design my own weapons," he explained. He hovered over her as she kept turning over page after page of beautiful weapons when he stopped her by holding a finger down to a particular piece. It was a quad bladed spear head she had noticed earlier. "I'm still trying to work this one out. It looks doable, but the angle is going to be difficult to hold when the steel is heated."

"I can do that!" she exclaimed, picturing the exact tool she needed. She stood suddenly, almost crashing into him from where he was leaning over her. " _We_ can do that! I can show you; I have the tools. All you need is…" Her face fell, remembering that she was still in a strange land far away from the comfort of her own forge. "My tools are in my forge. In Eryatheia."

He read the disappointment on her face and felt guilty for even having a small part in putting it there. "It's just an idea. It doesn't matter, really," he assured her, collecting the pages in pile.

She dismissed the excitement and sudden disappointment she felt knowing that if she let herself think on it, her stomach would ache from missing Eryatheia and her family. "What are your plans for the day?" she asked Gendry, hoping he could spare the time for a day of frivolity.

"Stay here, I suppose." He narrowed his eyes at her, suddenly suspicious. "Why?" When she smiled with that mischievous twinkle in her eye, he had learned it was hardly ever a good thing where he was concerned.

"Or you could come with me to the Kingswood," she suggested. "You'll need a shirt, though."

To be honest, Gendry had forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. He reached over to the shelves and grabbed a clean shirt, pulling it over his head as wondered aloud "are we allowed? Am _I_ allowed?"

She smiled dangerously. "Do you think anyone will argue with me if I say you are?"

He chuckled, imagining it. "I'd like to watch if they did."

"Good man," she nodded and kicked the boots that were tucked underneath the desk toward him. "Come on. We'll get some food for lunch on the way."

They stopped in the market for food. Aero was a foreigner and she didn't understand that the merchants prices were always inflated. She was about to pay for a handful of plums and several apples at a ridiculously high price when Gendry stopped her, talking the man down to a much more reasonable charge. Letting Gendry take the lead, Aero chose the food but let Gendry speak to the merchants. She thought that it should have bothered her, but she was never one argue when she knew she was wrong. And Gendry was much better at haggling that she was.

With the food tucked into a bag that Gendry insisted on carrying, they began the trek down to the Mud Gate where the ferry would take them across Blackwater Rush.

They stepped off of the ferry and strolled past a few houses down The Kingsroad before the sunny road was enveloped by trees. Gendry was more awed at the trees than she expected. He stared up at them, smaller trees nearer the road, but as Aero led them down a small footpath, the trees grew bigger and so thick that the sunlight only managed to shine through in small slivers, dancing on the forest floor with the movement of the leaves in the wind. "I've never even been outside the city walls except to watch the tournaments," he confessed.

They walked companionably down the narrow footpath for a while. Gendry told her about growing up working for Mott, though he left out the not-so-great parts where he developed his overzealous work ethic to distract him from the crippling loneliness. He let Aero hold more of the conversation. She had seen and done so many more things than he had. Granted she was a few years older than he was, but he knew he'd never have the means to live as she did. It didn't overly bother him, though. He was perfectly content in a forge and making weapons for great knights that would go on to do great things. He didn't need more than that. The only time that he particularly felt jealous of her was when she started speaking about her family.

"Wait. You have how many brothers?"

"Three." Aero held up three fingers and ticked them off on each fingertip. "Gentian is the oldest. Then Alder. And Pyrus is a year older than me."

"Are you close with all of them?"

"Moreso with Gentian. He would inherit the throne if something were to happen to me or if I decided to abdicate so he understands the pressures of our family. Alder is the scholar. And Pyrus likes women. A lot of women." Gendry quirked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. "His bedchamber is next to mine. I hear things I'm not supposed to."

Gendry smiled and shook his head. "It seems you have a lot of people to worry after you. But you don't walk with a guard."

"Never wanted one."

Gendry looked up, noticing that the trees had started to thin again and the sunlight streamed down in wide beams now. "King Joffrey walks with a guard. A great many of them."

Aero scoffed. "From what I've heard, all of King's Landing could fall into the sea and King Joffrey would only mourn the loss of his throne of melted swords. It seems to me that a ruler afraid to walk amongst their own people is doing a poor job governing those people." She sighed and slowed her pace. "No. I won't have men die for me."

"I think Evann would die for you," he said cautiously.

That earned a smile from her. "Noble idiot," she laughed. "He would die to protect me. But then, I would do the same for him. I call it love. He calls it me being stupid."

"You think of him like a brother, don't you?"

"I do," she nodded, sneaking a curious glance at him. "Everyone else assumes we're lovers. How did you know?"

"I dunno," Gendry offered with another shrug. "I imagine if I had a sister and I was to leave her in a strange city with a man I didn't know, I would probably threaten him, too. And he doesn't look at you how I expect a lover would," he added. Genry knew this because he was very aware of the way _he_ looked at her. "He watches you like… I don't know how to explain it. It's different from how Ser Jaime looks at you."

She laughed and gave Gendry a pitying look as if he had gone insane. "Jaime doesn't look at me."

"If you say so, Your Grace," he nodded obediently with a cheeky smile and chuckled when she glared at him.

"It's nice that you have your brothers. And Evann," he decided. "Even if he is a little intense."

Gendry saw that they were nearing a meadow in the forest, the bright sun leading them through the dense underbrush. They were now so deep into the forest that the footpath had almost completely grow over from disuse. "How is it that you became a blacksmith?" he questioned, genuinely curious how a queen decides to wake up and want to spend her days in the sweltering heat making weapons.

"It's tradition. Eryatheian rulers have learned a trade even before the Vysrane line began," she explained. "I like working with my hands and everything else seemed very boring to me. I had always been close with Evann's family and he and I would sit with his father, Ilando, in the forge at night and watch the fires burn down. The polished swords on the walls would catch the glow and make the entire room shimmer. I thought it was all rather beautiful." She smiled up at Gendry as they had to step over a fallen tree in the narrowing path. "My father tried so hard to get me to apprentice with Evann's mother making dresses instead. It obviously didn't work out."

Gendry felt himself smile at the thought of Aero with a dainty embroidery needle. Even as he tried to imagine it, the image of Aero sitting quietly without fidgeting and sewing something was absurd to him.

"Did you always want to be a blacksmith?" she asked. The clearing was just ahead.

"I didn't really have a choice," Gendry replied. "It was either this or live in the streets. But I'm good at it. I like the work. It keeps me busy."

She understood. It's easy to like the work if you're good at it. And a land at war would never have too many good swords. "Would you be something else if you could?" she asked.

The question caught Gendry off guard. He had never considered anything other than being a blacksmith. "I can't imagine doing anything else. I don't have the patience to really sell things. Mott handles that part. I can't stand the smell of fish," he winced. "I don't like hunting. I don't have the convictions to be a holy man." He paused to contemplate all the things he liked about being a smith. "I like the smell of hot steel. I never had the money to try other things, but I never really wanted to. I know steel. I know how it's made and I know how to work it. It's not complicated like so many other things are. You keep it hot, and you hammer it down. Again and again and again. I like being able to take my frustrations and make them into something solid. I don't think I would want to be anything else."

They broke free of the forest and into the flood of sunlight. The meadow felt perfectly untouched with wildflowers and soft green grass that Gendry yearned to feel between his toes. Even a small stream just big enough to wade in wound its way from the trees to their right and disappeared back into the forest across the meadow. It was a far cry from the red city dirt he usually had to dump out of his boot. Aero was already ahead of him as he had stopped to take in the beauty. As usual, she dove right into it. Her arms were open as she walked through a patch of tall straw colored grass, her fingertips grazing the tops of the plants as she walked. The breeze was warm and inviting as it whistled through the trees smelling strongly of flowers and moss. It gathered Aero's long hair and tossed it around her. Gendry felt his stomach flutter at the sight.

He followed her farther into the clearing away from the trees. It was more than he had hoped for when she asked him to come with her. Perhaps maybe he could understand why others would enjoy the outdoors instead of working next to a furnace all day.

Aero looked at him over her shoulder, again with that mischievous glint in her eye. She brought her fingers up to her lips and let out a long loud whistle that echoed into the trees.

Gendry just looked at her, confused. "What was that for?"

"Just wait," she told him, looking toward the sky.  
"For what?" he asked after a few quiet moments had passed.

"Wait," she said again.

The breeze around them began to pick up again and he could hear… something. And then he saw it. A horse the size of small house began to descend into the clearing. The sound he heard was from the horse's massive wings that beat the wind with a force almost strong enough to knock him to the ground. Aero put a hand on his arm to steady him when she saw him waver. He had overheard some men exclaim about a giant flying horse, but he never expected it to be real.

The great black mare landed lightly in front of them and folded its wings to its side. Gendry was too stunned to move, but Aero strode up to the giant animal and greeted it with a hug to its ridiculously massive nose. The mare bent her head down low so that Aero could actually reach it.

"There's my pretty girl," Aero cooed at the horse. She scratched the underside of the mare's neck and then pulled back, clenching each of her hands to make her fingers look like claws.

"I'm gonna get you!" she exclaimed. The mare whinnied and took off running into the open field, Aero chasing playfully after her.

Ovid would toy with Aero in the progress of their game, letting the human get just close enough and then quickly darting away. She did this several times and Gendry lifted himself up onto a tall tree stump and watched. Every now and then, Aero would turn to make sure he was still there and smile at him. Gendry fell in love with her then, watching this woman he could never have dressed in scuffed boots and an oversize shirt coming untucked from her trousers playing a game of 'catch me' with a winged horse. It was easy to see that she thoroughly enjoyed the chase. She would laugh every time as Ovid slipped away, too quick to catch. Gendry laughed, too, watching them.

Breathing heavy, Aero collapsed into a spray of wildflowers underneath a shade tree with a sigh. The mare, recognizing the end of the game, trotted to where Aero lay and folded her legs and shifted her wings to lay beside the human, resting her enormous head halfway on Aero's torso.

"That's my girl," Aero tutted at the animal brushing out its mane with her fingers and running her hand down its long forehead.

"Gendry?" she called out, lifting her head just enough to search him out.

"I'm here," he replied still sitting on the tree stump watching them.

"Come lie down beside me."

He walked past the massive creature, its eye watching him as he moved to lie down on Aero's right side, Ovid taking up all of the left. Aero tucked her right arm behind her head to use as a pillow. The grass was soft underneath them, and Gendry shifted onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Aero and the great horse breathing deeply beside her.

"You can pet her if you like." Aero's blue eyes reflected the sky above them as she used them to gesture toward Ovid's head.

It didn't escape him that this was an intimate moment he was sharing with her. Perhaps it didn't mean the same thing to her as it did to him, her having grown up with brothers and Evann. But as he leaned over her to run a palm down Ovid's great nose, he felt his heart swell. Aero closed her eyes, completely at ease with him and it touched him deeply. He smiled to himself and continued to scratch Ovid along her mane, what he could reach, anyway. She seemed to like it.

It was a while before Ovid grew tired of lying down and moved off of Aero's stomach. At some point, Aero had turned her head toward Gendry. She didn't smile, but just watched him as he watched her, forging an unspoken connection. The fleeting moment was disrupted when the mare rose and shifted its wings, shaking out the stillness.

"Ready to fly, then?" Aero asked, sitting up and squinting at Ovid in the sunlight. The horse extended her massive wings in agreement.

When Aero stood, she reached down to take Gendry's hand and pulled him to his feet. When he was upright, he was surprised that she didn't let go. She tugged him along with her to stand in front of Ovid. He and Aero only barely reached the height of the horse's stomach.

"Scratch her at the base of her neck," Aero urged, pushing him forward. "She likes that."

He stepped closer and did as she said, scratching Ovid where her long neck met her chest. The horse lowered its head and nosed at his back in appreciation. He moved back to stand beside Aero, lifting his hand to block the sun from his eyes as she was doing.

"So, what do you think?" Aero asked Ovid nodding her head toward Gendry. "Do we like him enough to let him fly with us?"

Gendry's stomach clenched. Did she just say 'fly'?

Ovid lowered her large head again and Gendry stayed very still as the great horse nibbled gently at his shoulder. His legs were shaking with adrenaline. He was all at once terrified and exhilarated at the idea of flying. He couldn't decide whether he was hoping the shoulder nibble meant yes or no. He was about to ask when he saw Aero pulling her hair back away from her face and quickly plaiting it in a long braid over her shoulder. She secured the end with a leather string tied around her wrist.

"I think so, too," Aero responded to the horse's wordless approval.

Aero took Gendry by the hand again, pulling him over to the tall tree stump he had been sitting on as he watched them play.

"Normally she would bend down," Aero explained. "But I think this should be tall enough."

Aero leapt onto the tree stump with relative ease and pulled Gendry with her. Ovid took position beside them and crouched slightly.

Aero was first. She grabbed at the base of Ovid's wing and pulled herself up, swinging a leg over the side and coming to sit just behind Ovid's wing joints. Leaning down to hold a hand out to pull Gendry up, Aero suddenly sensed his hesitancy. "It's safe," she assured him, meeting his eyes. "Trust me."

Gendry did trust her. But there was a difference between working with her to spell the Stark swords, for which he might be put to death if anyone found out, and intentionally mounting a flying horse where he could potentially fall and die. He didn't know what the difference was, but he was sure there was one. In the end, it came down to pride. He knew he would look like a coward if he declined and insisted on keeping his feet on the ground. And the very last thing he wanted was for Aero to see him as a coward. Despite his doubts, he reached for Aero's hand. She pulled him high enough that he could push himself up onto Ovid's back and settle behind her, the sheath of her sword resting over his thigh. He felt the horse's muscles move beneath him as it stretched out its great wings. He felt the pit of his stomach drop, his doubt returning with greater force.

"Closer," Aero instructed, reaching behind her to find his hands and pull them around her waist. He shifted forward slightly, still hesitant at touching her. He had never been so close to a woman before. He was so close he could smell the lavender in her hair and the wildflowers from the meadow on her clothes and skin. "Now keep your knees tight and hold on."

With a flick of its wings, the horse shot upward. The clearing became a small patch of green in a wide sea of darker green trees as he tightened his grip around Aero, effectively pulling himself forward so that his chest pressed into her back and he tried to bury his face in the space between her neck and shoulder. His hesitancy at touching her disappeared when the dread and anxiety took hold. When they leveled out, he found his stomach again and slightly released the death grip he had around Aero, muttering an apology. Lifting his face from Aero's shoulder, he finally opened his eyes for the first time since he'd been in the air.

"Whoa," he breathed, taking in the view. He could see all of King's Landing and then some. The tension in his stomach was still there, but now there was also wonder and excitement. It was also colder than he expected. "You do this all the time?" he asked, now looking to the South over the Kingswood that stretched as far as he could see.

"As often as I can manage which hasn't been nearly often enough lately." She turned her head just enough to look over her shoulder and their noses almost touched. "When I saw you with the horse at Mott's, I thought you might enjoy this."

The wind whipped around them in a pleasant breeze; Ovid lazily flapped her wings just enough to keep them aloft. Testing his courage, Aero slowly pulled Gendry's hands from her waist and stretched their arms out beside them letting the wind take over their senses.

Confident in the knowledge that Aero was right there, Gendry allowed himself to let go of the anxiety and just enjoy this feeling. It occurred to him just how few people would ever get a chance like this. He certainly never thought anything like this could ever happen to him.

Aero let him bask in the warm sun and cool breeze for a time. But she was excited to show him more. They were flying over King's Landing, looking nothing more than a city of red brick and thatched roofs beneath them when she pulled his hands around her waist again and called over her shoulder for him to hang on.

"Dive," she urged Ovid, tucking her knees in a little tighter. The horse obliged and folded her wings until the ground looked like it was rushing up to meet them. Gendry held tight but he didn't close his eyes this time. Ovid angled her wings away from the city and over the bay. They were falling so fast, Gendry was sure they would end up in the water. But just as quickly as Ovid had made them drop, she angled her wings again into a smooth glide that left them feet above the water. They were far enough out in the bay that there were no boats near them allowing Ovid enough space to spiral around a few times before steadily ascending back into the sky. Gendry let out a laugh that he didn't know he had been holding.

* * *

It was past midday when Ovid had had enough flying and brought them back to the meadow in the forest. Gendry threw his leg over and jumped down first trying to be gentlemanly and helped Aero down. She didn't need help, but she allowed him to catch her by the waist when she slid over the horse's side anyway. Aero was an affectionate person and she missed the feeling of being close to people in this odd kingdom she would never understand. She gripped his shoulders as his large hands tightened around her ribcage and he set her lightly in the grass.

It was easy to lose track of time in the meadow. They ate lunch in the wildflower bed underneath the shade tree. The plums Aero were for her and Gendry, but the apples they picked up at the market were for Ovid. Aero halved the apples with her dagger and showed Gendry how to keep his palm flat when he fed Ovid so the horse wouldn't accidentally nip his fingers with its massive teeth. Then Ovid grazed in the meadow, taking a particular interest in the tall straw colored grass while Aero and Gendry lay in the grass talking and enjoying the soothing sound of the nearby stream.

"And then Evann bet Pyrus that he couldn't run the ramparts around the Great Dome naked without being seen," Aero laughed as she told Gendry stories from her childhood.

Gendry smirked and pulled at a blade of grass. "He got caught, didn't he?"

Aero nodded. "Oh, yes. By our grandmother who had been looking for us for over an hour. She grabbed him by the ear and he cried."

Gendry laughed heartily and lay back down in the grass tucking his arm behind his head.

"I like it when you laugh," Aero said offhandedly and lay next to him on her side.

"I laugh. Sometimes," he disputed, defending himself.

Aero shook her head. "You're always so serious." He knew she was right so he didn't bother arguing with her. He let the sound of the forest settle around them, happy that she wasn't one of those people that needed to fill every quiet space with useless chatter. She rolled over onto her stomach and he closed his eyes, but he could still feel her looking at him.

It was a while before she spoke again. "Gendry?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, his eyes still closed.

"We're friends, right?"

Gendry opened his eyes and narrowed his eyebrows at her question. He turned on his side to see that she still lay on her stomach, her head turned toward him and resting on her outstretched arm. Some of her hair had escaped her loose braid and fell around her face. There wasn't much space between them. He could hear her breathing if he tried hard enough. "If you say we're friends, then I guess we're friends," he replied, not wanting to assume.

"Don't do that," she sighed, blowing pieces of hair out of her face. "If I wasn't… what I am, would you consider us friends?" He thought about it. If she were a normal girl and he spent this much time with her, he would likely be courting her. But Aero was, by no means, a normal girl. "I ask," she continued when he didn't answer her straight away, "because if we were friends, you might find it in you to consider coming home with me. To Eryatheia."

"We're friends," he nodded trying to exude a calm he didn't feel. Surely it was normal that a person's heart would beat wildly if another person asked them to pick up their entire life and move to a different country.

"You don't have to answer right now," she promised. "I know it's really selfish of me to even ask. I just don't want to leave you here." She rolled over onto her back and stretched her arms out in the grass. "You could use my forge, if you wanted. It's small, but it's enough. Or you could take over as the castle smith. Ilando wants to retire soon and his apprentices are too young." She sat up and propped her elbows on her knees staring off into the meadow. "I'm not trying to bribe you. I just want you to know you have options."

He sat up, too crossing his legs under him and picked at the dirt on his boot. "I know you're a nice person," he began. "I know it's not fake and I know you don't have some agenda. But I guess I just still don't understand why you would be so nice to me."

Aero looked back at him and crawled the short distance to sit beside him. It surprised him when she took the liberty of resting her head on his shoulder. No one had ever done that before. "Because we're friends," she replied, simply.

"Thank you. For today," Gendry said shyly as Aero walked with him back to Mott's shop.

"It was nothing," she responded, aware that something had subtly changed in their relationship when she asked him to come to Eryatheia with her. Like with Bet, she had grown attached and couldn't stand to leave him behind when he could be much more than just a blacksmith's apprentice in Cylix.

He shook his head. "It wasn't nothing. I don't- I don't have an answer yet, but…" He held out a purple flower that he had picked in the meadow. "Thank you." She took the flower and smiled down at it. It was such a simple, sweet gesture. No one had ever given her a flower.

"You're welcome."

She turned away so he wouldn't see the way she bit her lip and closed her eyes in a smile. Aero tucked the flower in the bag she had bought at the market to carry food and started East. The day replayed in her head on her walk back to the Red Keep. Over and over, she thought about the way he tried so hard not to look frightened when she pulled him onto Ovid's back. And when he gripped her so tight she could barely breathe when Ovid took off. The light smell of smoke still clinging to his skin even though he had just taken a bath. His laugh. She wanted to remember every moment.

* * *

There was a commotion when she reached the Keep. People were darting this way and that in the corridors. "What is it? What's going on?" she asked one of the women hurrying along the hallway.

"King Joffrey and Lady Stark, Your Grace," the woman replied quickly as she looked around, anxious to be gone.

Aero's heart sank. "Where?"

"The throne room," the woman squeaked, clearly wanting to run.

"Go," Aero demanded. "Be safe."

The woman curtsied and was out of sight within moments. Aero gripped her sword so it wouldn't sway as she ran, dodging people, toward the throne room. She knew that whatever was happening, it wasn't good. Aero flew through the open doors of the throne room and shoved people aside to make her way to the front of the crowd. Sansa's whimpers echoed through the hall. Her pleas were met with the sound of a sword swooping through the air. Aero pushed her way to the front to witness the horrifying scene herself.

"Come see, Aero!" Joffrey called gleefully. "Your necklace really does work!" With a laugh, Joffrey heaved his sword at Sansa, but because of the necklace that Aero spelled for the girl, the blows came close to hitting her but glanced away at the very last moment. Sansa flinched and tried to step away, but Ser Meryn Trant pushed her back toward the sadistic king.

"What are you doing?" Aero screeched, rushing forward.

"Just getting in a little practice." Joffrey propped his elbow on the pommel of his sword, the sword's tip crunching against the stone floor. "She can't be harmed, after all," he said, pleased with himself.

"So you terrify her instead?" Aero took Sansa's hand and pulled her in a hug. Still shaking, the girl breathed a sigh of relief into Aero's shoulder. Aero pulled Sansa's face away from her shoulder and brushed the hair out of her face to make sure that Sansa was okay. Sansa nodded and let Aero hand her a bag to hold and step in front of her to face Joffrey. Ser Meryn gripped his sword, ready to step in at the king's command.

"What do I care for the feelings of a traitor's daughter?" Joffrey asked without compassion. "She deserves to be punished."

"What has she done to you?" Aero countered. "What imaginary slight to your ego is her fault?"

Joffrey narrowed his eyes at her furiously. "Her traitor's blood will rain from the skies if I command it! I don't need a reason to punish a traitor's daughter. I am the king!"

"And a mighty king indeed, scaring a defenseless girl for your own amusement." Aero set her face in a look that made Joffrey take a step back. "You will never get to harm her again."

"You are not ruler here." Joffrey lowered his voice, but it wavered and gave away his fear. "You don't give me commands."

Keeping Sansa behind her, she walked steadily toward him, never taking her eyes away from his. "That's a beautiful sword, King Joffrey." She recognized the work as Mott's "Have you ever had the chance to use it?"

Joffrey's neck stiffened, his chin in the air. "I killed many men at the Battle of Blackwater. Hearteater has seen more blood than you ever will." He looked her up and down and grimaced at her trousers and scuffed up boots. "A woman with a sword," he scoffed. "You look ridiculous."

"Tyrion killed men," she challenged, taking another step forward. "You hid like a coward at the Battle of Blackwater."

Aero's palm began to glow as it did when she restored Jaime's hand. Still moving toward Joffrey, Ser Meryn and Ser Boros intervened and stepped in front of their king.

"Kill her!" Joffrey screamed, seeing the glow of her palm. "She's going to hurt me! Kill her!" In an instant, Ser Meryn and Ser Boros bore down upon her, but she dodged their swords. As Ser Meryn took another swing, she reached out for his hand, overpowered him, an used his hand, still holding his sword, to cut a deep line across the inside of Ser Boros' thigh, severing the femoral artery. Ser Boros screamed and collapsed, dropping his sword to try to staunch the flow of blood from his leg. Ser Meryn tried to subdue her by pulling at her shirt, ripping it up the side. Aero fought back and twisted his wrist with enough force that it snapped. He shouted as she twisted his arm behind him and pressed her glowing palm to the side of his face. She wasn't sure what was going to happen. She had never used her magic to fight before. She had never been angry enough. But she felt the tingle in her palm grow stronger the more Joffrey spoke until she couldn't control it. It wasn't intentional. And that scared her greatly.

Ser Meryn screamed in agony as the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Her palm had seared his skin so deep that it looked like a hand print had been branded onto the side of his face, though no blood ran. The heat had cauterized the blood vessels. Aero let him fall to the floor as he clutched his face with the hand she hadn't broken, cries still arising from his crumpled figure.

Joffrey stared down at the two men of his Kingsguard, horrified.

Aero closed in, standing over him, the boy king that liked to hurt girls. Her insides raged. "I cut through your men like they were nothing without even drawing my sword," she seethed. "Imagine what I could do to the likes of you."

Joffrey's fear didn't surpass his arrogance. His chest heaved and he waited for her to turn her back before he responded. "You can't speak to me that way! I am the king!" He lifted his sword toward her. She looked down at it, unconcerned.

"You are a monster," she spat. "And I genuinely hope that someone has the good sense to kill you before you irreparably bring all of Westeros into ruin. But if you die, it will not be my doing. Because no matter how many men I've killed, you are not worth the effort it would take to get the blood stains out of my clothes."

With nothing more, she intertwined her fingers with Sansa's and led the girl from the room. The crowd parted to make way, staring after them. She walked Sansa to her door, asking again if she was okay. Sansa, still so afraid to show fear, only nodded and thanked Aero. Aero kissed the girl's forehead and Sansa lowered her eyes to the floor. "My mother used to kiss my forehead," she said meekly.

"Mine did, too," Aero confided, kissing the girl's forehead one more time.

When Aero made it back to her chambers, the room was empty. Safe knowing that Bet was with Evann, Aero peeled off her boots and her clothes and climbed into bed without bothering to pull on her night shirt. The sun hadn't even fully dipped below the horizon, but she was exhausted, wondering how the day could have gone from being so wonderful to so wretchedly horrible. Aero suddenly remembered the flower Gendry had given her. Groaning, she pulled herself out of bed to retrieve the flower from the bag she dropped in the doorway. This time, she actually did take time to find her nightshirt and pull it over her head. She even bothered to pour some water from the pitcher on the table into a shallow washing basin and dragged a wet cloth over her face. She placed the flower in a small cup of water and took care to set it on the small bedside table. It would certainly be a beautiful thing to wake up to in this wretched city.


	10. The Storm Inside

A servant hurried quickly away from Lord Tywin's chambers where he was having his morning tea. It was supposed to be Tywin's quiet time. More often as he was getting older, he felt the pressure behind his eyes worsen. Whether it was age, the sound of his daughter's constant nagging, the frustration he felt in his eldest son, or the disappointment he felt in the other, he didn't know. At the moment, the pain in his head was directly linked to Cersei's alternating screaming and angry sighs.

"She attempted to kill the king; your grandson! Aren't you going to do anything about it?" Cersei screamed disbelievingly, slamming her fists down on the table and shaking the tea pot.

Years of dealing with his weakling father and his entitled children had left Tywin jaded and thoroughly unimpressed with his daughter's temper tantrum. He looked up at her from his tea cup with his practiced calm. "From what witnesses tell me, Joffrey was practicing his sword on Sansa Stark. Queen Aero was attempting to remove the Stark girl when Joffrey commanded Ser Meryn and Ser Boros to kill her." He sat his tea cup back in the saucer. "The king, my grandson, threatened the Queen of Eryatheia. Which, I remind you, has a wealth of fresh soldiers, and is not a kingdom already at war. If Eryatheia decided to declare war on us for Joffrey's actions, King's Landing would fall."

Cersei began to pace the floor looking more like a worried rat than a lion. "She can't just get away with wounding two men of the Kingsguard! Jaime will-"

"Jaime will do what I tell him," he interrupted her before she could go any further. His anger began to seep through in his voice. "Joffrey's bloody ego is not worth fighting the whole of Eryatheia when we can't even unite Westeros. That is final!"

She turned to him, wide eyed. "Father!"

"It is the position of the small council and this family that we will apologize for King Joffrey's actions and pray to whatever gods there are that she does not see fit to retaliate!" Tywin clenched his fist, ashamed that he had allowed himself to anger so easily. "He will need to be watched from now on. He can't be allowed to start another war. Taking Ned Stark's head has already caused us enough trouble."

"Perhaps more Kingsguard," Cersei suggested.

Tywin sighed. "You have completely missed the point of all this, haven't you? His extra guard needs to be someone loyal to us that will refuse to give into Joffrey's whims." He shook his head. "Your Uncle Kevan will have to suffice. I've given Jaime the task of escorting Queen Aero at the tournament today."

Cersei's lips tightened and Tywin saw a flash in her eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone. She nodded her head and turned to leave him. "As you say, father. I will see you at the tournament."

* * *

Gendry had never been one for tournaments. He normally stayed in the back, occasionally pushing through to the front of the sword melees to watch the knights that carried swords or armor that he had made. There was a kind of beauty for him in watching his work being tested and holding up. It also gave him a sick sense of satisfaction when the knight with his sword would defeat their opponent. But that was a thought he kept to himself.

He stood next to Efain and Halvic among the masses of common people lined up on the other side of the fence, away from the nobles who were just beginning to gather on the raised platforms along the other side of the jousting fence. Truthfully, the jousting didn't interest him all that much. He was there to see Aero, even if she was going to be sitting up on the platforms with the snobbish lords and ladies of Westeros.

Mott was standing on the other side speaking with the knights. They trusted his opinion on steel, and he was always interested in seeing other smiths' work. He was thumbing the edge on a sword heavily decorated with jewels in the hilt and pommel when a horn sounded signifying the arrival of the king. The nobles stood from their seats as King Joffrey was led into the tournament grounds followed by his brother, Tommen and the Lannisters, Cersei, Tyrion (with Lady Sansa), Tywin and his brother Kevan Lannister. Lady Margaery and the rest of the Tyrells came after. But no Aero. There was clearly a vacant seat at King Joffrey's left hand that was presumably meant for her, but he didn't see her either on the platform or among the other nobles sitting in the stands. Prince Oberyn was also conspicuously absent.

The sun was drifting higher in the sky and the crowd began to grow bored with the inaction when the herald stepped forward to introduce the knights and the house to which they belonged. Two men on horseback, Gendry had forgotten their names as soon as the herald said them, stood before Joffrey and gave a quick bow before trotting back to their starting positions and taking their lances. The first round was quick. The one in the silver armor landed a blow on the other's chest. The next went much the same, the man in the silver hitting the man in the green painted armor on the chest. Two points for the silver knight and none for the green. On the third and final pass, however, the green knight managed to get his lance underneath the silver knight's visor, sweeping the helmet from the silver knight's head and into the eye socket. The crowd gasped and retched at the blood pooling around the broken lance head protruding from the knight's eye. That's when Gendry saw her.

Over the carnage, Gendry could see Aero standing next to Jaime Lannister on the sidelines past where the nobles were supposed to sit. She definitely looked the part of a queen today. Instead of her usual trousers and linen shirt, she was wearing long elegant nude colored silks that were accentuated with hundreds of tiny shimmering pearls sewn into the bodice of the dress and the sheer cape that hung over Aero's shoulders and down her back. Her hair was pulled back away from her face to accentuate her golden circlet with delicate braids that melded in with her loose curls spilling over her shoulders. But the braided hair was already beginning to rebel at being confined and escaped in wisps to frame her face. He smiled at that. Even when she was dressed in her finery, there were still pieces of her that reminded him of the Aero that chased horses and lay in the flowers beside him.

Unlike the other ladies, Aero didn't balk at the sight of the blood and the horrific scene, though Ser Jaime tried to shield her from it as he led her to the platform with the others. She took her seat at Joffrey's left, Ser Jaime standing, ever watchful, at her side. _'It's enough,'_ he thought, _'just to stare at her from a distance.'_ He convinced himself that's all he needed. It wasn't like they could continue this closeness that they had developed. Even if he moved to Eryatheia as she had asked, he would be working. She would have queenly duties to attend to, friends, family to occupy her time. What hope did he have of stealing her away for an hour of her attention?

The idea of following her home had been rolling over in his head. He hadn't yet consulted Mott. He hadn't consulted anyone. Taking over Aero's forge or the castle forge meant that he could design his own weapons. But for someone who had only just ventured outside the city walls to the Kingswood, crossing the Sunset Sea seemed impossibly terrifying. He wanted to go. With her. To a new life. But everything felt so uncertain when he thought about it. Like walking up to cliff and deciding whether or not to jump. There could be water below or there could be rocks. It was a risk either way.

Gendry watched Aero fidget in her chair as the jousting continued, never able to sit still for very long when there was action. It was another thing about her that made her different from the others around her. The king looked incredibly bored when no one had been injured in quite some time. The rest of them watched with faces like masks as if cheering was beneath them. And then, Ser Loras Tyrell approached the stands in his gleaming armor on his freshly brushed white mare. His opponent, Ulther Moreland from the Westerlands, sneered at the young Tyrell. They dipped their heads in a bow to King Joffrey. Ulther reigned his steed away and down the jousting fence, but Ser Loras stayed put.

"Queen Aero." Ser Loras leaned on his elbow, casually eyeing her. "I believe you promised me a kiss."

"I believe you are mistaken, Ser Loras," she laughed. Jaime frowned behind her. "I seem to remember saying that I would consider it."

Ser Loras' mare was getting anxious, pawing at the ground underneath him. "You would let me go into a tournament without the honor of your favor?" he asked, a slow smirk tilting at the corner of his mouth. "If I die, you would feel sorely guilt ridden."

Aero laughed again and stood to descend from the high platform onto the lower stands where she could easily meet his eye. "I suppose I might feel guilty if you were competing in the tournament for my honor instead of your glory," she countered. "But to be fair, you've only ever asked for one kiss." Gendry watched her lean over the railing, willing Ser Loras forward. "Come closer, Ser Loras. I will grant you my favor."

With the stands still higher than Ser Loras on his horse, Aero had to lean far over the railing to lift his helmet when he led his horse as close to the platform as he could manage. She plucked his helmet from his head and leaned down to give him a swift but solid kiss on his lips. The crowd around Gendry erupted into cheers but he felt himself sicken at the sight. Gendry naturally looked behind Aero to Ser Jaime to see that the knight held a similar disgust at Aero kissing the Knight of Flowers.

"Get on with it, then," Joffrey sighed loudly with a wave of his hand. "I don't like being bored at my own tournament."

Aero placed Ser Loras' helmet carefully back on his head and he sped off to the end of the fence, opposite Ser Ulther. It was no surprise that Ser Loras won the match after the second round advancing him forward for the next day's competition.

Initially, Aero returned to her seat, but Gendry watched her willfulness get the better of her. She began flitting around to different people, sitting and talking with them as the matches continued. Ser Jaime didn't seem annoyed at this so much as he looked worried. Whenever she would move, he would move to stand or sit beside her, stoically watching for danger or pulling his sword at various young knights that approached her. She would talk with him as well, and Gendry could see how Ser Jaime's demeanor completely changed when her attention was focused on him. He smiled and gestured widely with his hands when he spoke.

Aero soon found Mott on the sidelines and spent a good deal of time standing next to the old man. Gendry could only guess at what they were talking about, but then Mott pointed in the direction where Gendry, Efain, and Halvic stood at the opposite fence with the lowborns. Aero smiled widely and raised her hand to wave at them. Gendry felt his face flush red as he returned the wave wondering just how many people had seen it.

To her merit, Aero did at least wait until between matches to excuse herself from Mott and cross the jousting field to where Gendry stood. He felt he knew Aero well enough that if she hadn't been obligated to use her queen manners in high company, she would have crossed even as the horses and their riders were rushing at one another. As it was, she ducked under the jousting fence, leaving Ser Jaime to sigh and walk the long way around because he couldn't bend so low in his armor and the jousting fence was too high to jump. Reaching the fence in front of Gendry, she gave him another quick smile before she turned her back and lifted herself so that she could sit on the broad railing and gracefully turn to slide down on the other side. Feeling more at ease with her since their day together, Gendry reached up to grip her waist and set her down easily beside him, the sheer cape that hung from her dress trailing after her.

Efain, still so young and innocent, rushed to hug her. She laughed and threw her arms around the boy, kissing his cheeks. And though Halvic didn't initiate a hug, Aero leaned in to kiss his cheek as well making crimson splotches explode on the boy's cheeks. She nudged Gendry companionably with her shoulder and stood beside him, her elbows resting on the fence railing as his did. He thought how they must have looked, Aero in her fine silks while he was wearing a patched grey tunic. The image lingered in the back of his mind, but he decided he didn't mind how he looked next to her as long as she liked being next to him.

"We don't have jousting in Eryatheia," she explained to him as they watched the next round of knights be acknowledged by King Joffrey. "I don't know that I like it."

"Why not?" he asked, though he didn't particularly like watching the jousts either.

"She's worried about the damn horses," Ser Jaime cursed as he joined them. Even in his Kingsguard armor, Ser Jaime easily vaulted over the fence and moved to stand at Aero's other side.

"This isn't war," she argued. "They shouldn't be put at risk just because some silly men want to run at each other with long sticks for sport."

"Not a stick," Ser Jaime corrected. "A lance. And it's a competition."

"And giving it a pretty name makes it less dangerous, does it?" She huffed and turned back to Gendry. "Ser Jaime has decided to act as my Queensguard today, though no one asked him to."

Gendry chuckled under his breath at her irritation. "Maybe because he knew you would never do as you're told and actually sit still to watch the tournaments," he offered.

Ser Jaime nodded. "As the boy said." Jaime squinted, the sun angled directly at them from this side of the fence. "Tournaments attract all kinds of people from all the seven kingdoms."

"I like people," she argued. "And you keep pulling your sword at anyone that tries to approach me."

"Only at the men," Gendry chimed in. He realized his mistake a second later.

Aero narrowed her eyes at the ground looking as if she had just had an epiphany. "Oh," she breathed.

"Yes," Jaime admitted. "Only at the men."

"Where is Evann?" Gendry asked, trying to divert the conversation.

Aero shook the thoughts out of her head. "He'll be down soon, I expect. He and Bet were trying to find something for me in the library."

"What are they looking for?" Jamie asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"A book. Obviously."

Jaime smiled and leaned companionably against the fence with the rest of them. "There's no need for your sarcasm," Jaime chastised her with a grin. "How terribly frustrating it must be for you that I won't let you wander off on your own to get yourself killed."

Aero made a face at Jaime that reminded him of the difference in their ages. "And how terribly frustrating it must be for you that I'm not the obedient girl you wished I would be."

"On the contrary, I rather enjoy it," he confessed, surprising her. "Never a dull moment with you. And I have been wanting to break Ser Meryn Trant's bones for a very long time." Jaime looked off into the sun with a wistful expression.

"You killed a Kingsguard?" Gendry asked incredulously.

"Wounded him…them," Jaime clarified before Aero got the chance. "She cut a sizeable gap in Ser Boros' thigh using Ser Meryn's sword. Then she burned Ser Meryn's face and broke his wrist. True artistry. I would have paid any amount of Lannister gold to be able to see it."

The throng of commoners cheered as the winners of today's jousts paraded by on their steeds to stand before the king. They would be advancing to the next rounds tomorrow, but for today, there was still the melee tournament. Men worked quickly to pull the jousting fence from the ground and smooth the yard for the sword fighting competition.

"I was looking for you in the stands, Queen Aero," Ser Loras called as he sauntered closer on his brilliant white mare. His armor was so well polished that it caught the sun and made her narrow her eyes as she looked up at him. "Your favor did me well today."

"You have bested many men, Ser Loras. Why would my favor make a difference?" she asked him playfully.

"You could give me your favor again tomorrow and see how I fare." His eyes raked over her body.

"I only recall you asking for one kiss."

Ser Loras shrugged and smirked down at her. "Well that was when I thought one kiss would be enough to charm you. It seems I have to work harder for your affections than I had previously thought."

"In that case, Ser Loras, I hope you enjoy a challenge," she quipped.

Loras nodded and pulled at the reigns of his mare. "I do, Your Grace. Very much so. And when I win this tournament and crown you the queen of love and beauty, I will ask you for much more than a kiss." And before she could respond, he turned his mare to the left and galloped out of the yard.

Gendry could see Ser Jaime's frown deepen. "What's the queen of love and beauty?" Aero asked, thoroughly confused.

"Tournament tradition." Jaime rolled his eyes at the thought of Ser Loras winning. "The tourney champion gives a wreath of flowers as a champion's favor to a loved one or a woman he intends to court." Jaime seethed, his stomach turning. "You cannot take that prat seriously," he sniffed, glaring at Ser Loras' retreating figure.

"No, I don't," she reassured him. "Anyone that good at being charming has obviously had a lot of practice. But I enjoy his bluntness."

"I imagine the scores of men and women he's bedded would say the same."

Aero quirked her head to the side and looked over at him. "That many, you think?" When Jaime was silent, staring with glazed eyes out into the yard, Aero shrugged. "Good for him, I guess. But I suppose it's easier to comment on others' sexual activities when the Kingsguard are _supposed_ to be celibate." She raised her eyebrows knowingly at Ser Jaime and he laughed.

"Yes, well, that rule was meant to keep the Kingsguard from leaving his post to marry," he clarified. "I can't imagine anyone being concerned that Ser Balon Swann makes a visit to Littlefinger's every now and—," he stopped abruptly and pointed. "Your man, Evann has arrived with your sister."

Aero followed Jaime's finger to see Evann and Bet standing among the nobles, waving to get Aero's attention.

"Crossing the yard again, then," she sighed and turned her back to lift herself over the fence again. She landed softly on the patchy grass and heard Jaime's armor clang as he dropped beside her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Gendry was still behind the fence looking conflicted. "Are you coming?" she asked him.

"I doubt I'm welcome on that side of the fence," he responded.

She made a face at him that was similar to the one when he asked if he was allowed to accompany her to the Kingswood. "I find that people are more welcoming if you walk with someone carrying a sword." She patted her sword at her hip. "As it happens, you're walking with _two_ people that carry swords. Three if you count Evann. I sincerely doubt anyone is going to question us."

He had to admit that she had a point. _He_ certainly wouldn't question the three of them together. He hopped the fence and let her take his arm when she slid her hand in the crook of his elbow to lead him over the yard where the workers were still setting up for the melee. It was a different feeling—the safety he felt with her. Eyes watched them cross, a queen, a Kingsguard, and a lowborn blacksmith. But they didn't mean anything to him so long as Aero kept hold of his tunic sleeve.

"We found the book," Evann said in greeting. "Bet put it in your chambers." His eyes focused in at Aero's hand hooked with Gendry's arm. Gendry didn't know if this violated Evann's rule of Gendry keeping his hands to himself or not. By the way the blonde man glared at him, he expected it did.

"What are you up to?" Jaime asked, centering in on Aero. Gendry knew as well as Jaime that if Aero was planning something, it wasn't going to be good from someone.

"I'm not ready to tell you yet, but I will soon." She put her hand on Ser Jaime's shoulder to placate him.

He shook his head. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

The melee began soon after. Eryatheia often had one-on-one sword competitions, but it was nothing like what King's Landing had to offer. No less than forty men were gathered in a newly erected square fence meant to surround the fighters. The men charged at one another, swords clanging against armor. Soon, the cries of the wounded pierced through the sound of metal on metal and the men unfit to fight were pulled from the pit. After a grueling amount of time, there were only two men left standing—Ser Balon Swann of the Kingsguard and Ser Damon Vypren.

As the last two, they bowed to King Joffrey and continued their swordfight. Both were large with wide chests and excellent sword skills, though, in her head, Aero was thinking that if Evann were to compete, he would dance around them, easily cutting through them without earning a scratch himself. These men didn't know how to defend against quick, light swordsmen. They depended on strength. And it made them slow. For a moment, it looked like Ser Balon would be the victor. He bore down on Ser Damon, sword at his throat, but the man wouldn't yield. Instead, Ser Damon reached down to grab a handful of dirt and flung it in Ser Balon's eyes. Ser Balon screamed in anger, digging the dirt out of his eyes with his gloves and, in the process, allowed Ser Damon the upper hand. Ser Damon kicked the feet out from beneath Ser Balon and pressed the tip of his sword at Ser Balon's shoulder between his armor.

"I yield!" Ser Balon shouted, letting his weapon fall to the ground.

The crowd roared and Ser Damon took of his helm to smile and wave at the cheering people. Breathing heavily, he moved to stand before King Joffrey as the winner. His herald and his squire ran to stand beside him carrying banners of a black toad sat upon a white lily pad in a sea of green. Aero thought a black toad suited the man perfectly fine with his dark hair, dark eyes, and squat face.

Joffrey sat on his makeshift tourney throne with entirely too much pomp for Aero's like. "Ser Damon Vypren," Joffrey greeted with a wry smile. "Back from the Twins, I see? And how was the wedding? Did the Stark mutts give you much trouble?" He smirked in Sansa's direction, making Aero clench her fists.

"Nothing but the cleanup, Your Grace," Ser Damon replied, kneeling in a bow. "Stark blood is thick, you see. It took a week to clean all the blood off my sword."

Joffrey laughed, delighted. Others joined in. Others were silent. Sansa bowed her head and picked at her cuticles while Margaery could only frown.

Joffrey, who was typically a miserable cur, looked positively gleeful. Aero's gut tightened with an impending feeling of something going very wrong.

"Have you met Queen Aero Vysrane, Ser Damon?" Joffrey asked, shifting in his chair. "Aero," he called out to her, "come meet the melee champion." Her face a mask of passivity, Aero glided forward, her dress and her cape dragging behind her. Jaime made to walk with her, but Joffrey held up a hand to stop him. "Not you, Uncle. You stay where you are. I only need Aero."

Aero lifted her skirts to stand on the lowest step in front of Ser Damon. "Your Grace," he acknowledged, dipping his head to bow.

"Do they teach all women to fight in Eryatheia? Or is it just you?" Joffrey asked her.

Something was off. Aero could feel it in the way his thin lips curved into a malicious smile.

"Women in Eryatheia learned a long time ago that swords and their masters do not discriminate when it comes to killing. All Eryatheians have some skill with a blade."

"I'd like to see more of this talent," Joffrey decided. "You very happily took down two of my Kingsguard. Perhaps you would enjoy challenging Ser Damon."

Ser Damon looked uncomfortably back and forth between his king and the foreign queen.

"I don't harm others for fun or entertainment," she sneered at the young king.

"Go on," he urged. "Give everyone a show. I know you thought Ser Damon throwing dirt in Ser Balon's eyes was in bad form. Perhaps you could teach him some manners."

The crowd around them cheered at the sadistic king's proposal. Joffrey allowed himself to enjoy the shouts of approval for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at Aero once more. "Fight him," he commanded.

Aero looked back at Ser Damon who was gripping his sword and looking around suspiciously. "Am I giving lessons in courtesy or killing a man for your enjoyment?" she asked Joffrey.

He casually crossed his legs and shrugged. "Why can't both be true?"

"And if she were to yield, Your Grace?" Ser Damon inquired, nervously.

"Yielding is for men," Aero declared, not moving from her step. "You know how headstrong women can be. Even if they're bleeding to death and you ask them what's wrong, they'll still tell you nothing."

The crowd laughed in chorus and she saw Gendry bite his lip to hold back a grin.

"You will fight," Joffrey bellowed rising from his seat and clenching his jaw. "I command it."

"You are a child," she countered, angrily. "You do not command me."

Tywin and Kevan Lannister stood suddenly and made as though either one of them were about to grab Joffrey by the back of his tunic and pull him back to his chair.

"Knife throwing!" Evann yelled from the sidelines, distracting everyone. "She's quite good at knife throwing. Tomorrow," he nodded at Joffrey. "Tomorrow we can put on a knife throwing performance for your people."

Sensing his grandfather and his great uncle behind him, Joffrey could only boil with rage and nod. "Very well," he conceded, never taking his eyes from Aero. "Tomorrow."

Unfortunately, a storm that was thought to be going south of King's Landing, shifted North with the southern winds making the city feel more like a muggy swam. It rolled in just before dawn, drowning the archery field in wet. Aero didn't find this unfortunate at all. With the heavy rain, very few people would be in the streets which meant it was likely that Mott would close the shop early and she and Gendry would be able to begin spelling the swords that night. She sent a messenger to the Street of Steel to let Gendry know to expect her at first light.

Even before Bet rose, Aero was dressed and out the door. In her excitement, she neglected to consider just how heavy the rain was in relation to the long walk to Mott's. She hadn't even made it out of the far walls of the keep before she was already soaked through. The roads down the slope of Aegon's High Hill were slippery and Aero had to take more careful steps. It was well past first light when she finally made it to Mott's shop.

The massive carved front doors were closed but not locked. She cracked the door just enough to let herself in and closed the door back behind her.

"You're late," she heard as Gendry stood from behind the counter. He was retrieving the two still-crude looking Valyrian Steel swords. Though his voice sounded abrupt, his face was concerned.

She twisted her sopping wet hair and left a puddle in the entryway. "It's raining," she replied. "Haven't you noticed?"

He takes in her appearance and notices that while her pants seem to be relatively dry, her shirt is so wet that it sticks to her tanned skin. He nodded. "Right." He had noticed it was raining but he didn't think anything of it. It was too early for anyone but the merchants to be up. Even Mott had yet to arrive since he wasn't needed until Gendry got the fires burning in the mornings.

Aero moved past him farther into the room while Gendry unwrapped the blades to set them out to be worked on. He was aware of her somewhere behind him near the hearth, but he didn't realize what she was doing until he turned around. The sight of her left a lump in his throat the size of the North. She had discarded her shirt, wringed it out into the cooling tank and hung it up to dry on hook near the hearth.

Looking at her, Gendry thought it was like looking into a fire-mesmerizing. Her breasts were wrapped as they always were when she wore her thin linen shirts to work in, but it hardly mattered. He could still see the swell of her breasts and the deep cleavage that made him stare. His eyes wandered over her from the planes of her stomach, tight from training, over her breasts, her strong shoulders and her arms, defined from years of taming steel. The marks on her skin looked like they were dancing in the fire light. They were an easy thing to overlook now. Like how after a while a person's face just becomes them and you forget to see the details. She moved to hang up her sword and belt next to her shirt and stood in front of the fire to wring her hair out more. He noticed her lips moving, but it took him a moment to realize that she was actually speaking to him.

"Do you have a shirt I can wear for today?" she asked, tugging at the ends of her wet hair. "If I singe it, I'll replace, I promise."

He shook the dirty thoughts out of his head and was finally able to react. "Gods!" he cursed under his breath and turned his back to her. "Can you warn me when you decide to start taking your clothes off?"

"You've probably seen more breasts than I have!" she accused. "And they're mostly covered." She brought her arm up in an attempt to cover herself to appease him.

He glanced back over his shoulder and frowned. "Not mostly, and I promise you, yours are the only… Why are we talking about this?" He huffed and began to stomp toward the stairs, Aero following behind him.

"Are you telling me that you've never been with a woman?" She had always just assumed he had. Handsome as he was, ten and eight years, surely he had been with several women.

He stopped abruptly when they entered his room and turned to her, being very careful to hold eye contact.

"I'm not someone who goes about bedding people. Is that what you think I do?"

She was taken aback at how hurt he looked. "No," she was quick to put his worries to rest. "No. I just… You're beautifully made and a man and I thought that you had…"

He shook his head. "I haven't. And even if I had, you still shouldn't be taking your clothes off."

"I don't make a habit of taking my clothes off in front of men," she argued. "You could see through my shirt anyway."

Gendry reached up to his shelf for his last clean shirt and handed it to her. "If you had warned me, I would have done the respectful thing and looked away or made you come up here to change."

"Made me?" she asked doubtfully.

"Made you," he growled and took the shirt from her when she made no attempt to put it on. He flicked the shirt to unfold it and gathered the shirt from the hem to the neck. Without bothering to ask for her permission, he pushed the opening over her head as one would a child and let the cotton fabric fall over her. "There are men here that don't care who you are," he continued, reaching under the large shirt to pull her arms through the sleeves. "Rapers and murderers. It doesn't matter to them."

"Your concern is touching," she chuckled as she allowed him to pull her arm through the last sleeve. "But we're in a shop full of swords. Their manhood is in much more danger than my maidenhead."

Gendry swallowed hard and dropped his eyes to the floor worried that if she could see in them, she would be able to see what he was thinking. Like her assumption, Gendry had just assumed that she had been with a man before. She was older than him. She had seen more of the world. She had killed. She had knights like Ser Loras and Ser Jaime at her fingertips. It was an easy assumption to make when he had never really known a woman before. Or at least none so well as he knew her. He always made passing acquaintances with men in the shop. He might make idle talk with a merchant's daughter. Or he would duck his head, embarrassed, if he was passing by a brothel and the women made a comment about him.

But he had never known anyone, man or woman to be like her—so blunt and so honest.

"Why aren't you married, Gendry?" she asked as she tucked the overly large shirt into her trousers.

"Your Grace?" The wetness of her chest wrappings and her loose hair had begun to seep into the new shirt.

Aero clenched her teeth and glared at him. "If you call me that one more time…"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Aero. Fine."

"Do women not throw themselves at you?" she asked, her nose scrunched in confusion.

Gendry laughed, genuinely laughed. "Me? No. Never."

"Have you never been interested in anyone?"

"Not really," he lied, looking away from her as he did so.

"Do you like men?" she persisted.

"What? No!" His head whipped back around and he recognized that his voice had gone unreasonably high. He cleared his throat and replied a more calmly. "I like women."

"But you've never been interested in one?"

She was persistent, but he could understand her confusion. Certainly most men his age had bedded a woman. It was common for fathers to take their sons to a brothel when they reached manhood. He supposed Mott was his father figure. But having met Mott's wife, Gendry supposed Mott would have been stabbed in his sleep if she knew he had visited a brothel. "Women…" Gendry began an attempt to explain, "not a lot of women come into the shop. And I don't normally leave the shop."

"Surely there's a brothel nearby," she offered.

"I'm not interested in women that sell their time. It doesn't appeal to me," he replied, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against his desk.

Aero took a moment to study his face and scrunched up her nose again. "How are you so noble?"

He chuckled again and shrugged. "That's the best word for stubborn I've ever heard."

"I mean it," she insisted. "I wasn't trying to upset you when I took my shirt off to let it dry. I didn't even think…" She swallowed and managed to focus on a piece of string dangling from the collar of Gendry's shirt. "I guess I just assumed you had been with women and wouldn't look twice at me."

Gendry scoffed. "Any man that wouldn't look twice at you is either blind or dead." He smiled for a moment in his delusion that he was actually allowed to return her bluntness, but at her stricken face, he immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

She shook her head and her shock became a smile. "No, please. Flattery from you is like rain in the desert. By all means…"

Gendry bit his lip and pushed away from his desk. "We should probably get to work," he muttered, gesturing to the door.

"Yeah," Aero agreed with a sad smile and led the way back downstairs.

The rain lasted through the day. Instead of washing filth away, Aero thought it felt like there was just a new layer of muck on the ground of King's Landing. It certainly smelled that way when the sun returned late in the evening and the air grew hot. She and Gendry worked in silence for most of the morning after Efain, Halvic, and Mott came in. There were very few customers. Mostly knights that wanted their swords looked at or repairs to damaged armor. Aero was right that Mott would close the shop early and by midafternoon, she and Gendry were left alone again working on the Valyrian swords. They continued shaping them, heating them, and folding the steel just to hammer it down again. More than a hundred times. More than a thousand times before they would eventually be done. Mott had been a good mentor, going back and forth between them, offering advice and pointing out where they were lacking. But now with Mott gone, they would finally get to spell the swords in secret.

Aero's questions had been weighing heavy on Gendry all day. While he was hammering at his sword, he rolled over all the reasons in his head why he wasn't married. He was still an apprentice. He would never be able to afford to care for a wife as long as he was an apprentice. It didn't seem too far-fetched to him that he put his pursuit for a companion on hold until he could make a living. But the truth was, he just wasn't interested in the women King's Landing had to offer. It ate at him until he finally worked up the courage to tell her the truth.

He pushed the steel sword into the hearth to heat and wiped his hands on the damp rag in the waist of his apron. While the sword she was working on was also heating, Aero was working on making a wax cast for the pommel—a lion's head. How typical. She was hunched over the small piece of wax carefully digging at it with a needle tool to get the details just right when he came up behind her. Her damp hair had dried as had her chest wrappings. The tail of his shirt that she wore was comically dangling over the back of her stool and made him smile. A piece of her hair had come loose from the tie she used to hold it back and it dangled close to one of the warm pieces of iron she was using to heat her needle tool. To keep her hair from frying on the iron, he took the liberty of tucking the long strand behind her ear and out of the way.

She didn't flinch at his touch. She didn't even turn, so involved was she in her work. "I'm not married because women—most women—bore me," he began before he lost his nerve. It didn't matter if she was too preoccupied to listen. He just wanted to get it out. "The women here are simple. It's not their fault. It's this city. It's how they were brought up. They're looking for the most advantageous marriage they can find, and I don't blame them. It's a shit city to live in if you're poor. But the game doesn't interest me. I'm not looking to be someone's stepping stone. I just want someone to want me for me. That's all I've ever wanted."

He breathed deeply and turned away, back to his station before giving her a chance to respond. He knew she wouldn't mock him. But she might pity him. He didn't know which was worse.

But then the sun sank slowly in the sky and by early evening, with all the doors and windows barred, Aero decided it was time to spell the swords. Gendry didn't know how to help. He mostly just took the blades back to the hearth to reheat as she worked on the other one, whispering over the steel as she folded and hammered. He expected something like when she had healed the blister on his arm—something magical, some evidence that the spell had worked, but there was only Aero and the sweat beading on her forehead as she narrowed her gaze at the glowing red metal and kept murmuring. And by the end, she gave out, leaving Gendry to douse the swords in the cooling tank before she collapsed onto a stool and leaned heavily against one of the wide stone columns meant to support the second floor.

"Look," she said proudly as she pulled the neck of the leather apron over her head and tossed it across a table. "No singe marks." She held out her arms to show Gendry that the sleeves of the shirt he loaned her had not been treated carelessly. Though she did have to roll the absurdly long sleeves up past her elbows to be able to work in it.

He fetched her some water from the newly filled rain barrel and went to wrap up the swords to hide underneath the counter. He came back to check on her only to find that she was gone. A creak in the floorboards upstairs and noticing that her shirt that she had hung to dry by the hearth was also gone lessened his sudden panic.

In barring the windows, the room had become stifling. To get some fresh air, he returned to the rain bucket to wash his hands and wipe down his face and neck. That was where she found him.

He noticed her out of the corner of his eye as she finished buckling her sword belt around her waist. She strode toward him and from his hand took the rag that he had been using to clean off. Dipping it back into the rain barrel, she rubbed the fabric across his forehead and down his neck, scrubbing at the soot patches that he had missed. He decided that her focus was another thing that he loved about her. It didn't matter what mundane task she was doing, she zeroed in on it until it was completed. He also enjoyed the intimacy as she held his face with one hand and dabbed at his skin with the rag in the other, so close. Of course it was insane to be so fixated on her closeness when he had wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck when they were riding Ovid. But everything felt different when they were in the forge, somehow every glance, every word or gesture held more weight because everything about the day in the meadow felt like a dream, an escape. The only reality he knew was the forge and the steel and the fire. With her there, his sense of what was real became muddled.

When she was finished cleaning him, she dipped the rag again and wringed the excess water out. She handed the rag to him and pulled the now several strands of loose hair back as an invitation for him to do the same for her. He did, carefully, as he cupped her chin and used it to maneuver her head so that he could get the line of black at her temple and the dark streak she had managed to smear across her jaw. He took longer than was necessary and he expected that she knew. She would look at him sometimes, as she was looking at him then, with wide, searching eyes that looked like they knew his every secret. He always had the strangest feeling that she could see into him when she looked at him that way. It made him suddenly very embarrassed that he had actually shared one of his innermost thoughts with someone that probably couldn't empathize or even vaguely understand his problems.

He was still working at wiping away a smudge on her left cheek when she spoke. "My father has been pushing me to marry since I was sixteen," she began. He continued wiping at her face, his stomach in too many knots to look her in the eyes. "I… The men that he brings me are… some are nice. But they're not real. They want to marry me because of what I am instead of who I am. I'm not a person to them. I'm a stepping stone, too." He paused at her nose and looked down, taking in her words. "I worry… I worry that my father thinks he has to suffer his heartache to protect my mother's memory when all I want is for him to be happy again. I worry about my people. I worry that my brothers resent me for being blessed and taking the throne ahead of them. I worry that I say the wrong things and I do the wrong things and one of my mistakes will hurt someone I care about. It's easier not to care. Easier. But so lonely." He could feel his heart beating in his ears when she pulled his hand away from her face and cupped it in hers. She squeezed his hand until he finally looked up at her. Her face, now mostly clean, seemed softer and sadder than he had ever seen it. "You should find someone to care about, Gendry. You shouldn't be alone in a shit city. You should have someone to share it with." She squeezed his hand once more and let go. Her footsteps were quiet across the stone floor; the only sound came from the squeak of the door when she left.

The knots in his stomach not lessening, he flung the rag onto his worktable and locked up downstairs before dragging his feet up the steps to his room. The first thing he noticed was the white linen shirt, wrinkled at the sleeves, lying across the foot of his bed. He picked it up, smelling of it and wondered at how she could sweat all day and still smell like flowers and fire. His gut clenched tighter and he hated himself for even allowing himself brief daydreams where he could imagine something could happen between them. Queens don't fall in love with bastard blacksmiths. They just don't.

He angrily balled up the shirt and threw it across the room, then cursed himself and picked it back up again. Even if it hurt him, he still wanted her. He flattened out the shirt and laid it next to his pillow as he stretched out across his small bed, her scent filling his head.

It was still early, the sun hadn't even gone down yet, but he was managing a comfortable doze with thoughts of Aero when he heard banging downstairs.

"Aero!" he heard someone shout from the street below. At the second shout, he recognized the voice as Evann. Gendry flew downstairs and jerked the door open.

"What? What is it?" he asked, frantic.

"Trouble," Evann responded gravely, pushing his way past Gendry and searching the room. "Is she still here?"

Gendry shook his head. "She left. Not long ago. We could still catch her."

Evann pulled his swords from the baldric on his back. "I'll find her. You stay put."

"To hell with that," Gendry growled, grabbing up his largest hammer from his work table. "If she's in danger, I'm coming with you."

Evann sized up the blacksmith. It was different from before. It wasn't just inane questions anymore. He could see the determination and the terror in Gendry's eyes. _'Good,'_ he thought. That's what a warrior is supposed to feel.

"Follow behind me," Evann told him. "Stay low. Stay quiet."

They took back alleys that Aero was mostly likely to take—the ones Evann knew were the quickest and the emptiest. They caught up with her not far up Visenya's Hill, both of them so relieved to see her that they let out an audible sigh.

"What's happened?" she asked immediately at seeing the two of them together. "Bet?"

"At the Keep," Evann assured her. "Jaime has a guard posted at your door, but we need to get to the docks."

She nodded, pulling the dagger from her belt and hiding it in her palm, keeping it flush with her wrist. "Get back to Mott's," she ordered Gendry. "Lock the doors."

He shook his head. "No."

"Gendry," she started, about to argue. Gendry had never killed, probably never even had a proper fight. She couldn't risk his inexperience getting him hurt.

He stood his ground and refused to budge a step back toward the forge. "No. If you're going, I'm going with you."

"Is it safe?" she asked Evann instead of chastising Gendry for being a stubborn ass.

"He'll be fine," Evan told her. "Let's go."

They slithered between buildings, foregoing the streets where there were sure to be stupid people with large mouths looking to make a coin or two. In hushed tones, Evann explained that before her ship The Serenity left the docks to anchor in the bay for the night, someone had thrown a fire bomb into the ship. "It didn't do a whole lot of damage, but it burned Alstom pretty badly when he tried to put it out."

She cursed and quickened her pace. They reached Fishmonger's Square and sneaked through the Mud Gate. The Serenity was still docked, something she was sure the captain would not be happy about.

Evann was right. The damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, but the sight of the burned floor of the gun deck made her angry. No doubt someone thought they might get lucky and hit a barrel of gunpowder. A few other members of her crew were also surveying the damage.

"How is Alstom?" she asked the men, trying to keep her anger in check.

Kraig, a young man, new to the crew and only just married, answered. "In pain, though he won't admit to it. Says he just needs some sea water on his wounds and he'll be fine."

"Curse the old man!" Aero kicked at one of the empty buckets and sent it rolling toward the bow of the ship. "Take him to see Lady Margaery at the Keep," she told the men. "Not Pycelle. Tell her that the knife sheath I made for her will heal him. She'll know what to do."

Kraig and his companion, Fil, nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Stop fucking calling me Your Grace, you bag of dicks!" she yelled at their retreating forms and looked for another empty bucket to kick.

Evann crossed his arms over his chest. "That was rude."

"I'll apologize tomorrow when Alstom has been seen about," she huffed. She felt violated. This act made the threat against her real. It didn't scare her so much as it infuriated her down to her core.

"You could have healed him, couldn't you?" Gendry asked. "You healed _my_ burn."

"Not when she's like this," Evann explained as Aero began to pace. She felt her heart pounding hard in her chest. "She can't control it when she's upset. Something about how her feelings get mixed in with the magic."

"He'd be more likely to explode than be healed if I tried to work on him right now," she added. She halted her pacing and just stood in the middle of the room running down a list in her head of people who would do this. _'How dare they go after people I care about,'_ she screamed in her head. She had already warned Cersei that to do such a thing was a mistake. Maybe the dowager queen didn't take the threat as seriously as she should have. The more Aero thought, the angrier she became until she felt her entire body start to vibrate. The buckets around them began to rattle and the ropes holding the cannons began to sing as they were pulled taunt.

"Whoa. Whoa." Evann gripped her shoulders and shook her. The buckets and rope silenced. "What are you thinking? You need to stop it, right now."

"I'm going to kill them," she declared, coming back to herself. "They're going to die because I'm going to kill them."

"We don't even know who is responsible," Evann argued.

"I know who is responsible. I just don't know who she paid to do it."


	11. Light and Shadow

Jaime was waiting for Aero outside of her chambers when she returned to the Keep. She knew Jaime's weaknesses. Most of them were Cersei. So instead of venting the intense fury that she was feeling, she hid her anger as she approached him in the corridor. He sighed with relief when he saw her.

"Is everything okay with your ship?" he asked, stepping toward her, away from the door.

"Minimal damage," she answered holding back a sneer. "But one of my men was hurt." She saw Jaime's eyes go dark at her words. She felt he knew her well enough to know how serious of a transgression it was to threaten someone she cared for.

"Do you think it was a random act, or do you think it was meant to target you?" Jaime asked.

Aero squared her jaw and held his eyes. "I think it was a message."

His lips thinned to a shallow line and he cursed. "Cersei," he growled and kicked at the wall.

Aero was surprised that he would acknowledge the vindictiveness of his twin—that he would immediately, without hesitation, name her as the most likely culprit. "I think so, too," she nodded, putting pretense aside and allowing the anger to show through. "Jaime, I know she's you're sister, but I can't allow her to harm my men and set fire to my ship." She paused to give her words more weight. "If she continues to come at me, I will seek retribution. And you're not going to like it."

"It won't come to that," he assured her, shaking his head. "I'll talk to father. We'll find a way to pacify her."

"You know that's not true," she challenged. "I'm not meant to kill her, but I can find other ways to hurt her. I'm not above making her suffer. I allow her this one pass because she thinks she is protecting your family and the Lannister claim to the throne. But the Lannisters aren't going to hold King's Landing for much longer. The Red Keep is going to fall and you should be gone when it does."

Jaime narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you know that you're not telling me?"

Aero let her eyes wander the immediate area. Either by accident or design, there were no other signs of life in the corridors other than Ser Jaime and herself. But she wasn't naïve enough to believe that there was no one listening. She motioned her head toward her chamber door, inviting him in.

When they entered, Bet was sat in a chair next to the fire with a very old book on her lap. Several more were scattered on the table in front of her. "Your handsome knight is gone then?" she asked without looking up from the page she was reading. "He's been out there all evening waiting for you." Jaime cleared his throat and Bet immediately jumped to her feet, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Ser Jaime!"

"Have you found anything?" Aero asked Bet, pushing past Jaime and unbuckling her sword belt to lay it across the table.

"I've found _something_ ," Bet confirmed, uncertainly. She flipped through the musty, crackling pages of the book to find the one she had marked and pointed at a passage for Aero. "Here. It's all very vague. But there are phrases that fit—ice that flies, mountains that breathe fire, and bleeding stars. And a lot of rambling that I don't understand because it's all in Valyrian. Some of the words I haven't been able to translate because they're not in any of the other books."

" _'He will wake mountains that fly from their stones and his will be an age of light,'_ " she read from the passage Bet pointed out and huffed. "For all its beauty, Valyrian is the hardest to read for those that don't speak it as a first language, nevermind trying to translate it."

Jaime moved to crane his head over Aero's shoulder. "Is that the book you had them find from the library?"

She waved a hand at him, trying to concentrate. "It is, now shush."

The room was quiet but for the crackling of the fire and Jaime's breath at her neck as he tried to read over her shoulder. She was focused in on a word that she didn't recognize when her stomach lurched and gave a loud gurgle. With everything, she only just realized that she hadn't bothered with lunch. She was regretting it now, but didn't want to bother with going all the way back down to the kitchens.

"Have you eaten today?" Jaime asked her, tugging at her arm.

Ignoring him completely, she kept reading the same passage over again hoping to gain some context clues for the word she couldn't quite remember from her languages lessons. Out of her peripheral vision she saw him lean back and send Bet a look that clearly meant for her to try.

Bet closed a hand over the one that Aero wasn't using as a guide to keep her place on the closely spaced, handwritten text. "I'm going down to the kitchen to get you some food. I'll be right back."

Bet's long dress swished as she moved to step around Aero, but Aero caught the girl's hand and placed a kiss on the inside of her palm. The small blond smiled at the simple but beautiful gesture. "I don't deserve you for a sister," Aero told her. "You're much too good for me." Bet leaned in to kiss her sister's cheek and closed the door behind her as she left Ser Jaime and Aero to talk.

Aero dropped into the chair where Bet had been sitting and motioned for Jaime to pull a chair beside her. "I've been in touch with Maester Aemon at Castle Black," she began. "He and my grandfather met when Aemon was studying at the Citadel in Oldtown. If Cylix has received word from Castle Black, then no doubt that King's Landing has heard news of the free folk and Jon Snow."  
"Ned Stark's bastard," Jaime quipped with amusement.

She shook her head. "Not Ned Stark's bastard. Rhaegar Targaryn," she corrected, enjoying the way his eyebrows pulled together, first in confusion, then in annoyance. "Son of Lyanna Stark. Fostered and claimed by Lord Eddard Stark because he knew that Robert would never suffer a Targaryen to live in Westeros."

"That can't be true."

"My father heard the words from Lord Stark himself. Stark didn't trust anyone in Westeros. But he knew that my father was a loyal friend and would have the means to get Jon out of Westeros if there was a time when it became unsafe for Jon to be here. Now it seems it's unsafe for us all to be here." She paused for a moment, not meeting his eye. She hadn't lied to him, but neither had she told him the truth. "I'm here for Joffrey's wedding, but I'm also here because I promised my father I would do my best to get in touch with Jon Snow."

"Jon Snow is past the wall. He hasn't reported back to Castle Black," Jaime argued. "He's dead already."

Aero shook her head. "He's captured, but he's not dead. I have a warg that's watching him."

"Wargs can't project that far," he explained, trying not to sound too patronizing.

"They can," she argued, dismissively. "But you're missing the entire point, Jaime." She sighed, frustrated. "The rumors, the whisperings from the north; the free folk are nothing compared to what's coming. The Others lead an army of the dead South and they're bringing winter with them. And Jon Snow is at the center of everything. It cannot be a coincidence that Jon Snow is a Targaryen and Daenerys' nephew. It cannot be a coincidence that Jon Snow is beyond the wall."

Jaimie leaned in closer. Despite his skepticism, a glimmer awareness tugged at him. "What? Why? The Others haven't been seen in eight thousand years _if_ they existed at all. They're not real."

"They're real. Think, Jaime." Aero pointed at her own temple. "Why hasn't the wall fallen yet? Eight thousand years and a thousand summers and the wall sweats, but it never falls. Why?"

Jaime pulled away in confusion. He didn't know. The wall just always _was_. "Because there are spells woven into the wall by the Children of the Forest. Right? That's the legend."

"There's a theory," she began, pointing down to the book she had been reading from, "and it's completely mad, to be honest, but there's a theory that the wall is built around an ice dragon. Or entombs one. Or holds it captive; all of the sources are unclear."

"Ice dragons?" Jaime almost laughed. "No one in written history has seen an ice dragon. They're myths."

"So are the Others," she countered. "And _they_ were a real enough reason to build a wall."

"If the ice dragon is real and the wall is built around it, so what?" he shrugged and leaned back in the chair. "Like you said, eight thousand years and the wall hasn't fallen. And if the Others are coming, wouldn't we want to keep the wall up?"

"The wall is nothing," she exhaled heavily and flipped a couple of pages. "It was built after the Others were defeated. It keeps the free folk at bay and does little else other than exist. Its endurance is a marvel, but nothing more." She narrowed her eyes and caught his gaze. "Jaime, if an ice dragon were trapped in the wall and the Others figure out a way to get to it before Jon Snow does, Westeros will cease to exist." She let the gravity of her words settle over him before she continued. "Ice dragons are larger than fire breathing dragons. Larger even than Balerion the Black Dread. Daenerys' dragons wouldn't stand a chance."

He felt his gut tighten and he suddenly felt sick. "Then what? Are we meant to sit and wait for annihilation?"

Aero squared her shoulders and tightened her jaw. "This petty war that you all are fighting amongst each other doesn't matter. The Iron Throne doesn't matter." She reached across the table for Jaime's hand—the hand that she had returned to him. "You're going to have to decide which war is more important to you. But in the end, the Lannisters will not sit on the throne in King's Landing." She let her fingers slide between his and felt the warmth of his palm in hers. "Leave King's Landing," she pleaded. "I would have you far away when the fighting starts."

Aero saw how his shoulders fell and how his eyes darted back and forth from their joined hands to the table, indecisive. "King's Landing is all I know. My family is here."

"Cersei is here," she corrected.

"Yes," he breathed.

Aero nodded and let her head sag. She knew he would survive the war, but at what cost? "If I could convince you…" she started, but let her voice trail off. "I know I can't. But you need to know, if I'm still alive, I will fight alongside Jon Snow. No matter who is on the other side."

"And what has a boy that you've never met done to earn such an allegiance?" Jaime asked, gripping her hand tight.

"He's trying to keep you all alive."

* * *

"You need to eat more," Bet chastised Aero as the blond girl buttoned her into the layered leather trousers and long-sleeved top. Aero frowned. The tailored leather already fit her like a glove and was much tighter than she would have liked. The layered leather was cut in intricate designs with gold and scarlet embellishments sewn between the layers to add a dual purpose of ornamentation and allowing the leather to breathe.

Aero pulled her hair back to keep it out of her face and twisted it into a long braid over her shoulder. "I need to train more," she huffed, bending completely at the waist to bring her forehead down to her knees. "I'm getting stiff." She went through a series of stretches to wear in the tight leather and her tight muscles. She loved spending days in the forge, but not as much as she loved spending days in the training pit laughing and fighting. That was one of the many things that she missed.

"You could train here, couldn't you?" Bet asked innocently before adding "I'm sure Ser Jaime would be happy to spar with you." The girl's mouth quirked up at her own joke.

"I can't train here," Aero hissed. Her hamstrings strained as she placed her palms flat on the floor in front of her without bending her knees.

Bet returned from Aero's trunk with a pair of black knee-high boots. "Why not?"

"Because." Aero dipped down to stretch out her inner thighs, first her left then the right. "If someone has intentions on harming me, I don't want them to know what I can do."

"I don't think anyone would chance trying to harm you once they see what you can do with these." Bet pulled the rolled up set of daggers from behind her back and held them out for Aero to take. Aero untied the string wrapped around the bundle and inspected them, running her thumb over the black blades to test the sharpness. She hadn't practiced throwing daggers in quite a while. Looking at them, she couldn't help but imagine how lovely it would feel to bury one into Joffrey's heart.

Aero had just finished buckling her sword belt around her waist when Evann burst into the room without knocking, as he always did, followed closely by Jaime.

"Ladies," Evann grinned sheepishly. "We've come to escort you to the festivities."

"You're awfully cheeky for someone who is about to have daggers thrown at him," Aero commented.

Evann waved her off and offered his arm to Bet. "You've thrown daggers at me dozens of times before."

"Have you ever missed?" Bet asked Aero, nervously.

"Only when I meant to," Aero winked and picked up the bundle of daggers from the table and started for the door.

"You're wearing that?" Jaime asked her, blocking her way.

She looked down at her leathers, confused. "You want me to throw daggers in a dress? You see me in trousers every other day."

Jaime swallowed, eyeing her up and down again. "Those are too tight. You should change."

Aero held his gaze for a moment, deciding how to handle being told what to do. "No," she stated defiantly as she strode past him. "I don't think I will."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Evann give Jaime a mocking thumbs up as he and Bet also passed by the knight. Jaime, being the last to leave, closed the door behind him.

The crowd gathered as they had before to watch the tournaments. She stood at the sidelines between Gendry and Mott, opting to completely ignore the chair left empty for her at Joffrey's left side. Gendry was excited to point out the weapons and armor that he had made for the knights and Mott commented on work from other blacksmiths. None better than his, of course.

She still wasn't particularly fond of jousting, but Aero could see how it was entertaining to watch. At one point, a lance shattered against an opponent's breastplate and Aero had to grab the back of Gendry's neck and pull him down just as a large shard of wood passed over their heads. It hit Jaime square in the chest, surprising him, but not causing him any harm because of his Kingsguard armor. He brushed away any wood dust on his chest and gave her a sour look that softened when she smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

Finally it was time for Aero and Evann to perform, much to Joffrey's sick delight. Aero unwound the bundle of daggers and cinched them with the string to her right thigh. The black daggers were small, only a hand's length and all metal, but they were sharp.

The crowd cheered the foreign queen as Evann took his place against a wooden prop cut to resemble the shape of a burial bed. Joffrey found it very funny.

"Quiet!" the young king called out over the people. "If she misses, I want to be able to hear him scream!" He smirked down at her from the tall platform and challenged her with his eyes. Behind him, she could see Cersei with the same derisive smirk her son had inherited.

The anger in her gut stirred and she felt her limbs tremble thinking of the fire on her ship and her man, Alstom, burned. The anger burned so deep in her that even as she trembled, so did the objects near her—water buckets, spare lances, a breastplate and helm that a knight had pulled off only moments ago. Evann, wide-eyed, shook his head at her. She could see his see his lips moving—knew that he was saying her name, but she heard nothing. Her mind had blocked out any outside sound and all she could hear was her own heart racing. It was Bet that brought her back. The sheer terror on her face as she clung to Gendry and Jaime standing on either side of the blond girl stopped Aero cold. Gendry knew. He had witnessed Aero's anger before. But Bet had not. _'What kind of monster could scare such a beautiful thing?'_ Aero thought.

Slowly, Aero returned to herself so that by the time Evann reached her and put his hands on either side of her face, she heard him when he said "What are lions to a phoenix? Specks a world below, and nothing more." He rested his forehead against hers and she felt the rest of her tension flow out of her. Soon enough, she would be free of these people. She only hoped she could get Bet and Gendry away before the bottom fell out.

"You're right," she nodded. "I'm fine." He held her eyes and she nodded again. "I'm more than fine," she declared, determined. "Let's show these assholes what's going to happen to them if they try us."

"That's my girl," Evann smiled and kissed her hard on the forehead before going back to take his spot in front of the prop.

Ser Loras, still in his gilded armor, sauntered over to stand next to her company just beside Gendry. "Just wanted a better view," he called out at her questioning glance. She held back from rolling her eyes as he noticeably raked his eyes over her.

Aero ignored him and pulled the first dagger from the holster around her thigh. She let sound around her drain away again and focused on the subtleties—the moisture in the air and the breeze coming in from the bay causing Evann's hair to dance around his face. She bent her knees, taking her stance, and held the dagger by its tip, bringing it up next to her ear. Aim, breathe in, breathe out, release. The dagger whistled as it tipped end over end to pierce the wood barely two fingers away from Evann's head.

The crowd erupted into screams and over them all, she could hear hoots coming from Gendry and Loras. She turned to see that Bet had buried her head into Gendry's arm, not daring to watch, but at the cheers from the crowd, Aero saw her sister unclench her fingers from Gendry's forearm and markedly sigh with relief. The cycle continued until Aero had exhausted the daggers from the sheath at her thigh. As Evann pulled the daggers from the wood, Aero pulled a stick from nearby fire and drew a target on the prop with the charred end.

Deftly, and without hesitation, Evann took Aero's spot and within a seconds had landed all of the daggers within the circle. The mass of people cheered for him while the nobles in the stands clapped politely for the lowborn with no title. Aero pulled the daggers from the wood this time and offered them out to Loras.

"Ser Loras," she called over to him. "You're quite good at jousting. Would you be offended if I asked you to try?"

"I'm more offended that you suggest I'm _'quite good,'_ " he huffed good-naturedly. "I'm clearly superior."

"Yes, well, let's see how your stick pointing skills translate to knife throwing," she teased. That earned her a playful glare from the Knight of Flowers as he stood where she told him and aimed at the circle that seemed to be getting smaller the more he aimed for it.

"I can't believe I'm making a mockery of myself for you!" he laughed as he missed the larger circle on his fifth attempt at throwing. The first three had hit the wood at the wrong angle and didn't stick, the fourth flew past the prop and into a, luckily, empty pit.

Aero smiled at him and took one of his three remaining daggers and casually tossed it at the smallest circle. It hit dead center.  
"How do you do that?" he asked, amazed.

Aero shrugged. "I aim for the middle."

While Joffrey had been surly most of the afternoon, he hadn't made a spectacle of himself. Aero supposed this was likely due to another chastising from his grandfather. For all of Tywin's cruelty, he was smart and he knew what it would mean to offend Aero, and, by extension, Eryatheia. The day's festivities were done and weary highborn and lowborn alike ambled back to their homes. Aero and her group were among the last to head back toward the Keep. She said goodbye to Gendry and Mott as the others walked up River Row.

Tyrion had been speaking with Jaime and he and Sansa assimilated into their group as they walked. They were just passing Fishmonger's Square and Sansa was laughing at joke Evann had made when an explosion sounded in the North of the city. Black smoke billowed overhead and the people around them began to scatter in chaos, running home to their families.

Jaime pulled his sword. "Get to Keep as quickly as you can," he commanded. "You'll be safe there."

Not at all willing to be left behind, Aero pulled her sword as well. With her heart pounding in her ears, she grabbed Evann by his forearm and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Keep them safe. I'm going to help."

Evann gripped her arm, conflicted between following her order to make sure Bet and Sansa were okay and letting his best friend run off into danger without him. In the end, he relented and let her go. "I love you."

Aero nodded. "I love you, too." She made a mad dash to kiss Bet and Sansa both on the forehead before darting off in the opposite direction to catch up with Jaime.

Jaime wasn't aware she was following him. While his mind is usually a jumble, his only thought at the moment was to get to the explosion and minimize casualties. That was his only thought until he began to see unshaved men he vaguely recognized on the low rooftops as he passed. They all seemed to be headed the opposite direction, behind him. Not scattering. Not running away from the explosion as others were. They were focused, moving as a unit.

He halted in the middle of the street and turned. His heart dropped to the deepest pit of his stomach and he froze. That's when he realized that Aero had been following him. That's when he realized that the people on the rooftops were the hill people from the Vale, banished to the Kingswood after the Battle of Blackwater. That's when he realized that Aero, his Aero, was surrounded.

The men bared their teeth at her and Jaime could see the gleam of her sword in the waning light. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and he tried to move, but he was too slow. One of the hill people made the first move, raising his sword high above his head to strike down at Aero. But Aero was quicker. She brought Shadow in a swift move across the man's gut and spilled his intestines in the street. She pulled the larger dagger that she kept at her waist and chaos took over.

He was running toward her at his full speed, but he knew, either way, the fight would be over before he reached her. People scurried around him like roaches, bumping into him and getting in his way. He could only watch as she faced the hill people on her own. But what a sight she was. _She was born to fight_ , he thought. Her body danced like liquid and light, moving with a grace he had never seen. She parried blows as if they were nothing and struck like lightning—quick and dangerous. Blood smattered her beautiful face and dead or dying bodies lay at her feet. Shadow, whipped around her in a dark blur that no man could escape. With the dagger in her other hand, she used both with equal, deadly, blows. It was a dance. She knew the steps and they did not. Tendrils of her hair had escaped from her long braid. Damp with other men's blood, the strands twisted wildly with her every move. The hill people truly didn't have a chance.

By the time he reached her, they, all of them, were dead. She stood amongst the corpses of no less than twelve men, stronger and older than she. The stones of the street were slick and stained red with the blood of those men that thought they could best her. So was she. Droplets of red were splashed across her face, dripping down into shallow lines. Breathing heavily, she pulled the fabric one of the men was using to hide his face and wiped her sword and knife clean before sheathing them. Aero found Jaime, her eyes finally able to focus farther than an arm's length away. She looked up at him, her face unreadable at first. Her eyebrows narrowed and her expressions flitted from horror to anger to sadness to fear to shame in a matter of seconds as she surveyed the carnage around her. The young queen had known death, but she had never seen battle—never seen the way the bodies stack up—never felt the monster that takes over inside when the enemies surround you, teeth bared, and all they want is blood. She gave them blood.

"Bet. Evann." She looked up at him with wide, searching eyes. "Did they make it?"

"I don't know," he answered, out of breath. "I was trying to get to you."

She scrambled over the bodies and took off at a run toward the Red Keep, Jaime close behind her.

She crashed through the doors of the Keep that the men of the City Watch were trying to close and didn't stop running until she found Evann, Bet, and Sansa safe inside the walls. Her chest heaving, she dropped to her knees, almost collapsing with relief. Now she only hoped that Gendry and Mott had made it to the shop safely.

Evann rushed at her as soon as he saw her, the terror clear in his voice. He dropped to his knees in front of her and gripped her shoulders. "You're covered in blood! Are you okay? Dammit, are you okay?" Aero nodded, still in shock. "I saw them. I saw them, but you told me to take Bet and Sansa and keep them safe. I was too far away by the time I looked back."

"I'm fine," she assured him, wiping at the blood on her face. "It's not mine. I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

Evann clenched her shoulders so tightly she was sure there would be bruises and pulled her into him. "I thought you were dead." His voice broke and he squeezed her tighter. "I didn't know what to do. I thought you were dead. There were so many of them."

Jaime burst through the door a few moments later with a man of the City Watch Aero didn't recognize. Both out of breath, the man handed Jaime a primitive iron knife with what looked like a deer bone grip.

It was only then that Aero noticed the audience gathered around them. In the confusion, most people had run farther into the Keep. A few more men of the City Watch, Tywin Lannister, and Tyrion hovered over them. Tyrion was attempting to console Sansa, though she wouldn't let go of Bet. Bet held on to the young redhead and stroked her hair even as the trenches her tears had made in the dust on her own cheeks dried. Aero stood and pulled Evann up with her, the blood on her leathers soaked into his shirt and trousers from where he held her.

"You're okay?" Jaime asked when he reached her. He rested his hand on her shoulder for a second but a few bloody strands of hair were still hanging in her face. He reached up and tucked them behind her ear, smoothing her hair back and letting his thumb caress her cheek. If he were being honest, he wanted to do exactly as Evann had done and pull her to his chest and hold her there.

"I'm okay," she nodded.

"Which is quite a bit more than can be said for the dozen or so dead men that attacked her," he said solemnly, as he turned and held out the bone handled knife to his brother. "The exiled hill men from the Vale. In the capital. Somehow. All dead."

Tyrion stared down at the knife, for once, speechless. Whispers began to spread among those watching. He gripped the knife in his hand and shook his head. "Your Grace, I swear I had nothing to do with this," he promised, looking up at her.

"Of course you didn't," she assured him. She held out her hand, requesting the knife he was holding. He placed it gently in her open palm. "You're far too clever for this ill-conceived plan to have come from you." The tip of the blade pushed against her fingertip as she turned it over, examining it. "And I know you well enough to trust that you wouldn't harm me, much less attempt to murder me in the street." She shook her head, knowing who was to blame, but seeing as how she was in a den of Lannisters, she dared not name Cersei as her would-be assassin. Aero sneered at the knife asking herself how many more people had to die to satisfy the aging queen..

"The hill people were sworn to me until they were exiled after the Blackwater," Tyrion explained to Aero. "Someone wanted you to believe I did this. Although, I doubt that someone expected you to survive. Twelve men, was it?"

Jaime crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the brick. "We didn't stop to count."

"Your Grace," Tywin interceded, "I assure you, this will be dealt with in a most severe manner. We will launch an investigation immediately."

Aero held out the knife to Lord Tywin and shrugged. "That won't be necessary."

Tywin blinked, surprised. He found he was often surprised by her and he didn't like it. Unpredictability was dangerous. "Not necessary?" he almost stammered. "You were very nearly murdered in the street."

Aero gave him a curt nod. "The City Watch is working at full staff with the tournaments and the wedding. You have guards posted at every gate. If they were exiled, someone let those men into the city during a time when a person shouldn't even be able to spit without someone noticing. Someone wants me dead. If they want it badly enough, they'll try again. Let them come." She caught Tywin's eyes and held his gaze. "I'm ready." Her anger welled up inside of her again, but she was able to more carefully control it this time.

"You're stupid is what you are!" Evann exclaimed from behind her. She turned to glare at him.

"I'm inclined to agree," Jaime concurred. He gave Aero a knowing look so that she understood he, too, knew who was to blame for the attack. "We can start by interrogating the men on duty last night. I'll have the…"

"Forget an investigation," Evann snapped, interrupting Jaime. "What have I been saying from the very beginning? Huh?" he asked, turning on Aero. "And you were parading around in pretty dresses _'Oh, no, Evann. I'm fine, Evann. I have a sword, Evann. No one is going to hurt me, Evann,'_ " he mocked in a high, shrill voice. "Obviously someone means to kill you. We should be on the boat back to Eryatheia tonight. Tonight, Aero!" He grabbed her by the face and held her there to look at him.

"No. Bullies don't scare me. I'm not running." She tugged away his hand holding her face and twisted it around behind his back, putting pressure on his wrist.

"Fuck it," he growled, darting underneath her arm and slipping out of her hold. "Then magic yourself across the Sunset Sea. Whatever. We should be gone by morning." He grabbed her from behind, one arm holding on to her shoulders and the other trying to trap her hands behind her.

Bet had gravitated toward Jaime in the scuffle, trying to get out of the way. She leaned over to him and asked, "Should we stop this?"

"At this point, I'm not entirely sure either one of them wouldn't kill me." Jaime responded watching Aero and Evann wrestle.

"If you want to go, then go." Aero snipped at Evann. "I'm staying." He still had her by the shoulders, but she managed to elbow him in the stomach. He grimaced and let go of her, but caught her arm before she could get away completely. Pulling her back, he grabbed her by both arms and shook her.

"I am _not_ leaving without you, you pig-headed, stubborn kledha monatrastra hielgreblanka," he cursed.

She recognized the swear words from the old language spoken in Eryatheia when the wild Northmen lived in tribes and roamed Eryatheia. Ilando, Evann's father, still spoke the old language and would teach them at dinners or long days in the forge. It passed the time.

She cursed back at him in the same language, the others looking on only guessing at what they were shouting at each other.

"If Aero wants to stay, we stay," said Bet quietly.

Evann let go of Aero and looked at the blond girl incredulously. "She could be killed!" he practically screamed.

"And she knows that," Bet argued without raising her voice. "She's not scared to die. If she runs, they'll think she's weak. And she is not weak. You should have more faith in her."

Evann wildly ran a hand through his blond hair that was just starting to reach his shoulders. "Fine. Fine! We stay. But I swear to the gods if you die," he snarled pointing his finger in Aero's face, "I will go to the phoenix caves and make them magic you back to life just so I can kill you myself."

Aero rolled her eyes at him. "That is not how phoenix magic works."

"Don't talk to me," he barked and stormed away.

"That's your best friend?" Jaime asked, moving to stand next to her as they watched Evann stomp away, kicking things as he went.

Aero sighed. "Yeah. That's my best friend."

Jaime nodded. "I see why you like to throw things at him."


	12. Propositions and Stolen Kisses

The next morning Tywin led a search into the Kingswood to find any survivors or other sects of the Vale tribes despite Aero's insistence that an investigation wasn't necessary. All he found were abandoned camps and vagabonds living in the brush. The tourney finals were put on hold until the city was swept and was considered safe again—not that King's Landing was considered particularly safe in the first place. Aero suspected that Tywin's ruthless attempts to find the person behind the attacks had more to do with saving face than it did with justice. If she knew anything about Tywin Lannister, she knew that he wouldn't suffer a man to live that could undermine his authority. And plotting to kill a visiting queen under the crown's protection was an insult to his house. He wouldn't stand for it. Even when he came up empty in the Kingswood, he carried on with his interrogations of the men of the City Watch. So woefully oblivious he was that he turned a blind eye to Cersei and her malicious misdeeds. If he did suspect her or Joffrey, he never admitted it.

Aero didn't feel like going to the tourney finals in any case. It took several baths to get all the dried blood out of her hair and all she could think about was getting back to Mott's and finishing the Valyrian swords. While Bet was still sleeping, Aero bound her breasts, tugged on her work clothes, sword, and boots and slipped out of her chambers before the sun had even started to peek over the bay. By the time she reached the Street of Steel, merchants were just beginning to open their shops for the day since the tournaments were postponed. Aero stopped and picked up a bit of fruit for breakfast and a couple of roast chickens and brown bread for everyone to share for lunch. She turned the corner to sneak through the side door of Mott's that Gendry had grown accustomed to leaving unlocked for her in case she got there before he came downstairs. But when she crept through the crack in the door, she saw that Gendry was already working, the hearth burning like it had been fired for hours.

He was working on the Valyrian swords, she saw. Finely shaped, now Aero and Gendry were meant to smooth the blade and sharpen the edges before adding the hilt and pommel. Gendry was sitting at one of the smaller grinding stones, focusing on sharpening the edges when he looked up. The look she saw on his face was very near the relief she felt when she saw that Evann, Bet, and Sansa were okay. He let the blade fall to the stone floor with a clatter as he stood and rushed toward her. He made a move as if to embrace her, but he thought better of it and settled for taking the wrapped parcel from her arms and setting it on the table beside them.

Even with the relief evident on his face, Aero could see that he was upset. He looked like he hadn't slept at all, his eyes were red and his hair was disheveled, standing up in odd sections like he had been pulling at it.

"Men came last night," Gendry started, his throat scratchy. "They said you'd been attacked."

Aero dipped her head. "I was. They're dead."

Gendry sighed heavily and wanted so much to chide her about how she should be more careful and she needed to stay safe. But it wasn't his place. Tales from the men that came in the shop to gossip varied. Some of them said that there were fifty men. Others said ten at most. Some said she yelled out "Blood or death!" as she chopped the men in half. The worst were the rumors that Aero had to be carried away—that she was cut up and nearly dead herself.

"Can I… What happened?" he asked, exhausted, as he raked his fingers through his hair again. "How did you get caught in the middle of it?" Letting his tiredness get the better of him, he sank down onto one of the stools, his shoulders sagging.

"They were just there," she recalled with a slow shrug. "We had just passed Fishmonger's Square when we heard an explosion somewhere north in the city. Jaime was running and I was running and I felt something fly past my ear. I stopped. For just a second. And then they were coming at me from all sides. And they didn't stop. I pulled Shadow and my dagger, and… And then they were just bodies. Bodies and blood."

Gendry stared at the floor and clenched his fists. "How many?"

"Fourteen," she whispered.

Gendry shook his head and tightened his already clenched fists. Standing out of pure rage, and not knowing what else to do, he punched the stone wall next to him. Fourteen men against one girl. Anyone else would never had made it out alive. He honestly couldn't believe she did either.

"What was that for?" she asked.

He had turned his back to her, not wanting her to see how upset he was—how he could barely regulate his breathing when he thought of what could have happened to her. "I'm glad you're okay," he finally said, feeling stupid that that's the only thing he could come up with.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want you to lose a friend since you're so good at making new ones," she teased.

"That's not funny," he grunted, turning back to her.

She shrugged. "Sorry you woke up in a bad mood."

"I didn't even go to sleep," he spat, frustrated. "I've been up all night worried you were dead."

Realizing what he'd just said, he pressed his palms to his face and tried to scrub away his raw emotions. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I've just gotten to know you. And I like having you here. You're my friend."

"I don't mean to make light of it." She shifted from hip to hip uncomfortably and picked at her fingernail. "I'd just rather make it into a joke than think about the alternative. I like being here," she admitted. "With you."

Gendry let out a low breath and felt her move closer to him in the relatively large space. He imagined she knew that he wouldn't be the one to take the initiative to embrace her, though he wanted to. He was more reserved while Aero would never be described as anything close to shy. He didn't know how to react when she snaked her arms around his waist and her temple rested against his cheek. It was the shock of it—the intimacy of being alone in the still and the quiet—that made him hesitate. But when he felt her drop her head to rest on his shoulder, her nose pressed into his neck, he hugged her back. He brought his arms around her lightly at first and when she didn't pull away, he pulled her closer and stroked her hair. He'd always wanted to do that.

They stood that way for a while, comfortable in one another, until Aero unwound her arms from him and stepped back with a lazy smile. "Do you want to sleep?" she asked him. "I can get Halvic to help me finish up whatever you were working on."

His exhaustion washed over him like a wave and he felt his muscles tremble from weakness. "Yeah," he nodded. "I'll take a quick nap and be back out before Mott comes in."

But he didn't come downstairs for the rest of the day. She checked in on him periodically, always finding him in a different sleeping position than the last time. At some point mid-morning, he bothered to strip out of his shirt and kick off his boots. This time he was stretched out across his straw mattress snoring lightly. When Mott came in, she told him that Gendry wasn't feeling well and she had sent him up to rest. If Mott thought it was odd, he didn't say so. Between the two of them and Halvic, they finished polishing the Valyrian swords and grinding the sides down to sharp edges. All that was left was some etching to the shoulder of the blade and to add the hilt, grip, and pommel to both of them. A heat wave was beginning to waft through King's Landing and by the time Aero had finished for the afternoon, she was drenched in sweat.

She checked in on Gendry again before she left for the day. The others had already gone since Aero offered to douse the fire and close up. Gendry's soft snores echoed just outside his door and she quietly pushed her way inside. She placed the leftover chicken and bread she had saved for him on his table. He had shifted over to his side, curled around his pillow. The sight made her chuckle. Trying not to wake him, she slipped back out and closed the door behind her. She hummed to herself as she rinsed off in the rain barrel and made her way back through the city to Red Keep as evening was setting in. She had a meeting with Tywin and she didn't want to keep him waiting.

* * *

Jaime sat with his sister, his hand clenched so tight that his knuckles were starting to turn white and his fingernails dug half-moons into his palm. They were in her solar having a late lunch and taking in the fresh air, though they were arguing more than they were eating. He noted that Cersei was already on her fourth cup of wine while he had barely finished half of his first.

"I know you had something to do with it," he accused. They had been going back and forth, Jaime blaming her for Aero's attack and Cersei vehemently denying it.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him as if she was bored. "Prove it then."

"I don't have to."

"So sure of yourself and your new sleuthing skills. How adorable," she patronized.

"I don't have to be sure of myself. I'm sure of you. I've known you too long, Cersei. You're bitter. And you're jealous. And this time you've gone too far. She could have been killed."

"Oh," she waved him off with a shrug and poured another glass of wine for herself. "There was only supposed to be five or so of the dirty hill people. It's not my fault they got a little… overzealous. They were only supposed to hurt her a little. Only enough to scare her."

Jaime felt no happiness in being right. If anything, he felt dread. Because he knew Cersei well enough to know that when she got it in her head to accomplish something, she achieved it by any means necessary. This wouldn't be the last attempt Cersei made to 'scare' Aero. He would have to watch her more closely from now on. Now that Cersei knew Aero's strength and skill, she wouldn't underestimate the young queen again.

"What does it matter?" Cersei continued. "She's nothing to me. Nothing to us."

"Us," he echoed, with a chuckle.

"It's always been us. You and me. Since the beginning." She extended her hand across the table to reach for his and he drew his away before she could touch him. A frown marred her otherwise beautiful face and she pulled her hand back as well.

"It _was_ us," he enunciated. "And then you decided it would be fun to murder someone I care about."

" _'Care about'_ ," she laughed, taking another long draught of wine.

"I don't love you anymore," he admitted, softly, his eyes downcast. "I thought… I thought maybe that you had some humanity left, but you don't. I can't see the good in you anymore. You've never held any love for Tyrion even though he's our brother and I thought that maybe your hate and spite would lessen after Joffrey became king, but it hasn't." He let out a heavy breath and unclenched his fist, feeling the muscles and tendons ache from being bunched for so long.

"You've always known what I am," she spat. "It's _you_ that's changed. Not me."

"You're right," he nodded, finally looking up. As he suspected, Cersei's frown had deepened. "I love her."

He suspected some part of Cersei must have ignored what he said because she didn't immediately fly into a rage as he had expected. "She's an infant," Cersei countered, dismissively.

"She's good and she's kind and she's nothing like you."

Still, Cersei frowned but remained otherwise unfazed. "A savage."

"A warrior," he argued. "She survived your threats. She killed the men you sent after her. She knows you're behind it, but she's giving you this one pass out of mercy."

"Mercy?" Cersei laughed. "Jaime, if I truly wanted her dead, she wouldn't be cavorting with the blacksmith right now. Your silly little infatuation aside, what does she have that I don't? Nothing. She is nothing."

"You may be the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, but there is certainly one thing she has that you don't." Cersei lifted an eyebrow intuitively. "Unlike you, Aero is loved. Her people love her. Her men love her. And now I love her. And that just kills you, doesn't it? That she's a better queen at such a young age than you will ever be in your lifetime."

He didn't realize he was standing until he saw how small Cersei looked below him—how the sight of her made him want to lean over and retch. She had become someone he didn't recognize, though, she was right, he had changed and not her.

"Jaime, sit down," she scolded. "We both know you're not leaving me for this child." She finished the rest of her cup of wine and sat it down on the table as if that decided the matter.

Jaime shook his head. "It's not worth your time to try to destroy her, you know?" Even if you do manage to kill her, I'll still love her. I'll still love her more than you." He moved to leave, but stopped just before the door. He wanted to get in one last shot to show her exactly how serious he was. "How does it feel always coming second to a dead woman?"

Cersei narrowed her eyes, cold and calculating to the table. She always knew the perfect thing to say that would cut him deeper than any sword. But she miscalculated. Her words were hollow splinters that couldn't touch him now. He was finally free of her.

* * *

Tywin Lannister was sitting at his desk eating very sloppily. Much more sloppily than Aero felt necessary.

"Please sit," he offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"I prefer to stand if that's okay," she answered. "I've been sitting all day."

Tywin wiped his mouth with his handkerchief and sat back in his chair. She felt him eye her up and down, judging her, weighing her in his head. Whatever his thoughts were, he didn't share them with her.

Aero was about to ask the reason he requested to meet with her when a knock sounded on the door. "Come in," Tywin answered lazily.

Jaime, now out of his Kingsguard armor, dressed in trousers and a simple silk shirt entered and closed the door behind him. He looked curiously from Aero to his father and back again. Aero surmised that he was as uninformed about this meeting as she was. She also noted that, like herself, Jaime chose to stand in the presence of his father rather than sit.

"I'm sure you've been informed," Tywin began, speaking to Aero, "that your father sent letters to the more prominent houses of Westeros to inform them of your eligibility and your coming to King's Landing for King Joffrey's wedding."

Jaime looked at her, confused.

"I learned of this only a few days ago when I had lunch with the Lady Olenna. I did not know before then." Aero clasped her hands behind her back, afraid that if she left them in front of her, Tywin would see her fidget.

"I did not receive such a letter from your father," Tywin continued. "I take no offence. The Lannisters and the Vysranes have never seen eye-to-eye on most any issue which is why it interests me that you and Jaime seem to have formed a relationship." He let the last word linger in the air for a moment. Aero knew better than to look over at Jaime. Tywin was clearly plotting something.

"I'm very fond of Jaime," she admitted. "As well as Tyrion. They're both decent, honorable men, but I don't understand why you would request a meeting to inquire my opinion on your son."

"Aero…" Jaime shook his head and covered his eyes with his palm.

"What?"

"He's trying to arrange a marriage contract. For us."

"Oh." Aero suddenly felt very foolish. And then suddenly very angry.

"The High Septon has agreed to relieve Jaime of his Kingsguard vows and I would like for you both to be married within a month after Joffrey's wedding. It won't be nearly as lavish, but it will give time for any family you wish to have present to arrive," he stated, speaking again to Aero. "As I am required to perform my duties here as the Hand of the King, you both will move to Casterly Rock and Jaime will act as Lord until he inherits the rights and lands upon my death. Now, let's discuss the—"

"No," Aero interrupted without thinking.

Tywin looked up from the papers on his desk. "No?"

"No," she stated more firmly.

"Queen Aero, you are three and twenty years. Your father has run out of marriageable suitors in Eryatheia or he would not have sent letters to the lords of Westeros. You and Jaime are already acquainted, good friends if Varys' spies are to be trusted. Is that not preferable to—"

"No," she persisted, interrupting him again. She looked over to find Jaime just as shocked as taken aback as she was. "It is not preferable. Your grandson may sit on the Iron Throne, but I know who really runs this kingdom. Don't think that I don't know you hold the power to seek retribution if I refuse this proposal. You dress it up like you're waving a white flag, but I'm not so naïve that I don't see you want to use me to forge an alliance with my country in order to help you fight your wars."

Tywin narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't speak.

"You think I will agree to this match because I'm past prime marrying age or because I don't want to start a war. But I think you've already had more war than you can handle. Yes, Jaime is preferable to the lord suitors in Eryatheia, but your terms are beyond insulting." She wanted to bolt out of the room. She even took a step in the direction of the door before turning back.

"I know you're doing what you think is best for your family and this kingdom. I know you have no heir with Jaime in the Kingsguard because you will refuse to give the title to the man who truly deserves it—Lord Tyrion. And because of this, I will not take offence to the idea that you expect me to give up my family, my people, my country, and my throne to be a dutiful lord's wife at Casterly Rock. No. No is my answer, Tywin Lannister." Without bothering to give him the benefit of looking behind her, Aero stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

"Aero!" she heard Jaime's voice behind her, but she was so angry that she only wanted to be away from everyone. And to hit something. She also found that very appealing at the moment. "Aero," he called for her again until he caught up with her. He caught her arm and spun her around to face him. She found that she was in a corridor she didn't recognize, not having the mindset to navigate the endless halls of the Red Keep when she was still seething.

"Aero," Jaime started, softer this time. She could see the aggressive aching in his eyes and his handsome face that belied the way he gently held her arm at the elbow. "Would marriage to me be so terrible?" he asked, clearly hurt by her refusal.

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "You would be a wonderful husband, Jaime. But I would not give up my country to be your lady wife. And I suspect that you would respect me less if I did."

He nodded in agreement. "You're right. One of the things that intrigues me most about you is you never do what you're told. How could I fault you for not wanting to be a submissive wife? But you're assuming that's what I want."

"Is it not?"

He caught her other elbow and let his hands drift up her arms to the ball of her shoulders, gently rubbing circles on her arm with his thumbs. "Do you remember what you made me promise? When you gave me my hand back?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "You promised you would find what it is that makes you want to be a better person." She brought her hands up to rest just above the crease of his elbow as much to distance herself as to comfort him. "But you don't want to become Lord of Casterly Rock, Jaime. I know you don't. Doing something because it pleases your father is not worth your unhappiness for the rest of your life."

"I know what makes me want to be a better person," he insisted. "I'm looking at it." Aero turned her face away to hide her blush. "You're right. I don't want Casterly Rock. I don't want Lannister gold. I just want you."

She bit her lip and her stomach flipped in new and exciting ways at his words, but it still felt wrong. "I can't."

"This is your decision?"

"Yes and I'm…"

She was about to apologize. Not for Tywin. Only for him. But she was cut short by his mouth on hers.

Jaime pulled her to him, and for a moment, she was stunned. But his lips were soft and his heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her own chest as he pulled her tighter to him. His hand moved to cup the back of her head and the other snaked down to the small of her back, keeping her in place. In a second of weakness, she gave in and allowed herself the closeness with a man she had never experienced before. He was slow and methodical, thorough, and when he ran his tongue along her bottom lip to request access, she parted her lips to let his tongue move with hers. She ached so deep in her core that she didn't know what was nerves and what was desire anymore. Her hand wound its way to the back of his head, her fingers tangling in the blond mass. It could have been a second. It could have been longer, but at some point, he cupped her chin in the curve of his finger and pulled his mouth from hers. With heavy lidded eyes, she gazed up at him. She could see the raw emotion etched on his face and it made her take a step back.

With Gendry's statement the first day of the tourneys, she understood that Jaime wanted her when he pulled his sword on the men that attempted to approach her. But despite what Evann may have believed, she never guessed that Jaime loved her. A simple fixation, she had told herself. Because she had given him his hand back and he felt indebted to her. But now she saw him as he was. And he was magnificent, truly, he was everything she could possibly want in a husband. But she didn't love him.

His eyebrows drew together in confusion as she carefully pulled his hand away from her face. Perhaps she didn't love him. But she had grown to care for him and she didn't hurt people or things she cared for. Not intentionally, anyway.

"Jaime, I…" her words left her. She watched as Jaime's eyes moved, switching back and forth between her own. His lips were red from friction. "I'm so sorry, Jaime."

"Why?" he asked, catching her elbows again to keep her from running. "I almost lost you yesterday. Do you understand how that…" He winced and swallowed back emotions that he didn't want to talk about at the moment. "I would go home with you, to Eryatheia, if you asked me. Cersei be damned, I would leave King's Landing and my family to be with you."

She brought her hands to her temples to try to think. She couldn't think with the way he was looking at her and the way he was saying everything she wanted to hear. "I don't even know how long I have left, Jaime. You would marry a corpse?"

"Then let's run away," he suggested. "Now. Tonight. If that's what's stopping you from wanting to be with me, then let me take you away from here and we can live out the days or weeks or months you have left somewhere beautiful."

"I love someone else." Realizing what she had said, Aero immediately clapped her hand over her mouth in shock. Her mind was still hazy from the kiss and the panic and the anger and the guilt she felt. She hadn't meant to say it. She hadn't realized that she did love someone else until that moment. Regardless, her admission was enough to get Jaime to drop her arms and take a step back. Her hand was still over her mouth as she apologized again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Jaime's arms hung at his side and he looked down at his feet. "Does he love you?" he asked after a few beats.

"I don't know," she breathed, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort.

"You haven't told him?"

"How do you tell someone you love them when you know you can't be with them?"

"It can't be Evann," Jaime mused. "He's been preening like a peacock for your sister."

"Not Evann," she assured him.

"The blacksmith, then."

Aero looked down and kicked at a loose pebble. "How selfish of me it would be to tell him I love him now." She didn't expect a response. She didn't know that she would like his response if he did answer. "I don't know if he loves me, but if he did, what kind of person would I be to tell him I love him, too, when I'll be gone?" She felt uncomfortable walking the corridor, but she had too much nervous energy to stand still so she began to pace slowly. It helped to clear her mind slightly. "I did what I could for Bet. Evann doesn't understand. I adopted her because she'll still be a lady and still carry the Vysrane name even after I'm gone. She'll be taken care of. And I'm trying to get Gendry to come to Eryatheia and give him my forge so he can make his own weapons and he can finally feel like a part of society instead of just an apprentice human."

Jaime caught her as she was about to make another loop. This time he put his hands on either side of her face, holding her in place, and just studied her. "You can't save everyone, Aero. But you wouldn't be you if you didn't try." He pushed back strands of her hair that had fallen in her face and tucked them behind her ear. "If he doesn't love you, then he doesn't deserve you. You are the most singularly amazing person I've ever met." She wanted to turn away, to hide another blush, but he held her face. "You should tell him."

"Why?" she asked, though it sounded more like she was begging. "It would just hurt him that much more when I'm gone."

"If it was me, I'd want to know. I'd want the choice to love you for a short time or the choice to walk away."

He pulled her to him again, but this time it was different. It wasn't urgent and need driven. He pulled her into him and she felt safe when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders without grabbing or caressing. "You can't die yet," he told her. "You have so much left to see and do."  
"It'll be easier. For everyone." She turned her head to look up at him. She had built a friendship with him in such a short time—not just a casual friendship. She trusted him. Despite Evann's belief that she gives her trust too easily, it simply wasn't true. "If I die here, don't let your sister have my body," she pleaded. "My men will take me back to Eryatheia to burn me in the shadow of the mountain. You have to make sure Bet and Gendry get on the ship. I've already written letters to my family; they're in my desk at home. But Evann…" She flinched. What would she want her last words to Evann to be? "Evann will blame himself. You have to tell him that I've known this was coming and there was nothing he could do. Tell him to marry Bet and name one of the children after me so I can still be there. And tell him…" Her voice caught in her throat. "Tell him that he's still my best friend. And there's no force in this world that could change that."

"I will," he promised and kissed the top of her head.

She let him hug her for a little longer before she pulled away feeling like maybe this time she had given a little too much of herself. Embarrassed, she stuttered, "I, um, I have to go."

"Aero." Jaime made one last attempt to get her to stay.

She was already gone in the darkness beyond the torch light. "Goodnight," she whispered knowing he could hear her.

* * *

AN: I've been trying to write shorter chapters to get them out quicker. That still didn't happen. The last two chapters were over 10,000 words and I had to cut them in half. Whoops. I have another story in my head so I'm trying to get this one to where I want it for you guys before I start on the next one, but finding time is hard. School, amirite?


	13. Nothing

The tourney finals resumed the next day, not that Aero was all that excited to watch. She waited for Evann to come wake her up like he normally did. But now with Bet also staying with Aero, he didn't bother to sneak a spot on the bed anymore. He physically nudged Aero over, plopped down beside her and began the routine of sharpening his swords.

"I will kill you one of these days," she groaned and rolled over, kicking out at him. Bet was much more lady-like, stretching silently and tossing her legs over the side of the bed to stand.

"But then who would tolerate your snoring?" he smirked gleefully. Annoying Aero was one of his favorite things.

"I don't snore," she growled and shoved the feather pillow over her head to block him out.

"How would you know? You're asleep when you do it."

"I don't snore," she insisted and kicked the covers off of her. Bet chuckled at them and padded across the room and out the door to find Margaery's ladies that normally bring bathwater for Aero.

"What do you think the chances are of Ser Loras winning the jousting tourney?" Evann asked, changing the subject.

Aero shrugged and began combing out the tangles in her hair with her fingers. "Doesn't matter to me, I'm not going."

"So you're going to completely ignore your responsibilities and tell the Lannisters to fuck off, then?" He dragged the whetstone down the edge of his blade. "Sounds good. I like this plan. Except for the part where they take offence to your snubbing the King's wedding tourney."

Aero rolled her eyes and climbed over him to set her feet on the floor, smoothing her nightshirt down her thighs as she stood. "Yeah, well, I was planning on going before Cersei sent men to kill me. Now I'm not feeling quite so generous. And Jaime kissed me last night so I'm very keen to avoid him entirely."

There was a pregnant pause where it took time for Evann's brain recognize and understand what Aero had said. "He did what?!" he exclaimed shrilly. Evann's back stiffened and the whetstone in his hand slipped so that he accidentally sliced his hand open. He let out a low hiss and dropped his sword and whetstone in his lap to clutch at his hand.

Aero clucked at him and wiped away the blood with her nightshirt so that she could heal his cut. Evann's jaw clenched as she passed her finger over the angry red gash. "I forgot how much it itches," he growled through gritted teeth. The tip of her finger glowed with a soft white light as she touched his wound and returned to normal when the gash was fully closed.

"It's been a while since I've had to heal you." She pulled at the tanned skin of his hand with her thumbs, satisfied with pink line the healing had left.

"Yeah well we haven't sparred in a while Ser Jaime kissed you?" He spoke so fast that all of his words jumbled into one sentence.

"After Lord Tywin told me I was to marry Jaime." She depended her frown, lost in her own thoughts for a moment and forgot to elaborate.

"What in the nine hells is wrong with you? You let me go on about your snoring when you're set to marry a Lannister? This is vital, need-to-know information." He let out a groan and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Your brothers are going to kill me for letting this happen. I told you that Jaime Lannister wanted you! Didn't I?"

"Relax," she shushed him, thumping him on the forehead. "You were right, okay? For once. But I said no. Do you really think I would be okay with Lord Tywin's plans to subdue me into wifely duties at Casterly Rock?"

He chewed on his bottom lip trying to repress the sudden panic in his chest at the idea of leaving her behind. "Fine. You're not getting married then. That's a relief. But what about Ser Jaime?"

"He said he'd come to Eryatheia with me if I asked," she confided. "I think he loves me."

Evann rolled his eyes. "A blind man could see that. You just ignored it because you didn't want it to be true."  
"I suppose you're right." Aero sighed and sat on the edge of the bed at his feet.

"Of course I am," he nodded. "So we're avoiding Queen Cersei because she tried to kill you. We're avoiding Lord Tywin because he tried to marry you off to his son. And we're avoiding the son because he kissed you and now you're all fidgety and don't know what to say to him."

Aero made a face at her best friend. "That sums it up pretty accurately."

"I take it you'll be spending the day at the smithy, then?"

"I haven't decided," she lied, avoiding his eyes.

"You're spending an awful lot of time there."

"Valyrian steel takes a lot of time."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the handsome, tall, broad shouldered blacksmith, does it?" he accused.

Aero felt a flush of heat color her cheeks. "I didn't notice that you were so aware of Gendry's features."

"I notice that you're avoiding my question."

She sighed and ran her fingers through her still tangled curls. "I can't figure him out," she admitted. "He's skittish. He acts like he's scared of me, but I catch him staring at me sometimes like the way you stare at Bet."

Evann jolted upright and lunged to cover Aero's mouth with his hand. She struggled to push at him while he looked around to make sure no one else had heard.

"Keep your voice down!" he sneered. "Damn, woman!" She succeeded in pushing him off of her and bit the palm of his hand still over her mouth. "Ouch! Damnit!" She smirked at him and kicked out at his side playfully. Evann breathed heavily and leaned back against the bed's headboard massaging the inside of his palm. "Okay. So you know I like your sister. I'm sure you have something to say about it."

"Of course not." Aero beamed and lazily crawled to sit beside him, leaning in to give him a quick, cheerful kiss on the lips. "Your happiness is my happiness. Or did you forget that?"

He smiled and tossed an arm around her, toying with a couple long curls that had shifted over her shoulder when she leaned in to kiss him. "I didn't forget. I just know how fiercely you protect the people you love. And I know that Bet is now one of those people."

"You're also one of those people," she reminded him.

"Yes. But I don't need protecting."

The door creaked open again as Bet came back in looking disastrously beautiful even though she had just woken up. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep and her blond hair tumbled around her in soft waves that should have been in knots. Beside her, Aero heard Evann draw in a quick breath. "Actually," he muttered under his breath. "I might need a little protecting."

Bet smiled at them curiously and moved out of the way for the young women carrying water for Aero's morning bath.

* * *

Aero sneaked into Mott's shop through the side door as usual. It was quiet, no fire burning in the hearth and no torches lit downstairs. Nothing except the creaking of floorboards above her signaling that Gendry hadn't made his way down to the tourney grounds yet. Slipping soundlessly through the room and up the stairs, Aero knocked on Gendry's door once before she pushed the door open and dropped down onto Gendry's bed with a huff.

"No, please, come in. My room is your room," Gendry quipped at Aero's unexpected presence in his room. To be fair, any appearance Aero made in his room was unexpected, never having had the pleasure of entertaining royalty before. Or anyone other than Mott, Halvic, or Efain for that matter. Certainly not a woman. "Did you need something?" he asked when she didn't respond. "I was just about to head down to the tourney grounds. Did you want to walk with me?"

"I'm not going to the finals," she said finally looking up. Gendry sat down in his desk chair opposite her to pull his socks on. That he had yet to put a shirt on was not lost on her. "You go and enjoy. I'm not interested. I just want to get some work done."

"Oh." He paused in the middle of pulling on his left sock for a moment then continued. "I only went because you would be there. I don't care anything about the tournaments." His face reddened at his unintentional admission.

Aero laughed and let her foot dangle over the side of his bed. "You would point out every single piece of metal you worked on."

Gendry shrugged sheepishly. "Some of it was quite good."

"It was all beautiful," she assured him as he began to pull on his boots. "I just don't feel like going through the pomp and pageantry today."

"But if Ser Loras wins, he intends to crown you queen of love and beauty. It's a great honor."

Aero smiled patiently at the smith. "One crown is already a heavy enough burden. And I certainly have no interest being courted by Ser Loras."

"No?"

"No." She laughed, but quickly sobered thinking it may have sounded cruel. "I like Ser Loras. He's beautiful. He's funny. He's clever. And he's good at fighting."

"Those don't really sound like bad things," Gendry chuckled.

"They're not. But Loras is…" She looked down at her fidgeting fingers trying to think of a nice way to explain her complete lack of romantic interest in Loras. "He has no depth. I could never seriously consider him as a suitor, even if my father did send out letters stating otherwise." She mumbled the last bit, still frustrated.

"What?"

Aero sighed and began to explain. "The Lady Olenna and Lord Tywin told me that my father sent letters ahead of my arrival to all the Great Houses in Westeros to announce my _eligibility_ ," she growled "and my eagerness to wed." She rolled her eyes and dropped her gaze to where she was picking at her cuticles.

Gendry moved to sit beside her unsure of how to handle and emotionally compromised female. Aero, grateful to be out of the keep and away from prying eyes, threaded her arm through his and let her head rest on his shoulder.

"I'm sure he was only doing what he thought was best," Gendry ventured, hoping she wouldn't turn her frustration at him.  
"I know," she sighed. "He's written me a few letters since, but I just can't find it in me to write him back. I feel so betrayed." Aero turned her head slightly so that her cheek pressed against his bare shoulder and the thin blond hairs on his upper arm tickled her lip. "But the Lady Olenna reminded me that if I were any other woman, I wouldn't have a choice in who I would marry. Do I even have the right to be angry with my father for wanting me to have more options? I've just been so annoyed with others trying to decide my life for me."

"Do you actually want to marry?" he asked quietly.

Aero gave a small laugh. "Does it really matter what I want? Eryatheia is relying on my finding a suitable husband to rule them and bear children to further the Vysrane line. It's a lot of pressure."

"But do you actually want to marry?" he persisted.

"I do," she admitted. "Or I would if it was the right person. Evann and I nicknamed the men that my father would bring to meet with me at the Shimmering Stone. We called them the Hollow Men. Some of them were nice, gentle men. I think some of them were scared of me." Gendry chuckled at that. "But some of them looked at me like I was a wild _thing_ meant to be controlled and tamed. Hollow men filled with ideas of their own grandeur and becoming king."

"You _are_ a wild thing," he snickered. "But if it helps at all, I don't think there's been a man born capable of taming you."

"Jaime might have had a chance if I loved him."

"Ser Jaime?" Gendry asked, confused.

"He asked me to marry him last night. Well, I mean, not really. Kind of. Lord Tywin wants me to marry Jaime and move to Casterly Rock."

"Oh." Gendry nodded, a sudden empty feeling in his stomach. "What did you say?"

Aero huffed and untangled herself from him, standing up to pace in his very small room. "No, of course." She crossed her arms underneath her breasts, frustrated. "To think, the old man thought I was going to give up my throne and my people to be a wife in Westeros. I practically ran out of that room. But then Jaime followed me out into the hall and he kissed me and he said all the right things." She breathes out. "I don't know how things got so hazy so quickly."

"He kissed you? Did you…? So what does that mean? Are you and Ser Jaime…?" Gendry's thoughts and questions swam around his head making very little sense.

Aero shook her head. "No. I care about him. But, I don't love him." She sat in the desk chair for a moment but couldn't sit still so she began folding a pile of Gendry's clean shirts that he had dumped on top of his clothes chest. He stood and tried to pull them away from her, embarrassed that he hadn't folded them himself, but she tugged them back and continued folding. "I thought it would feel different, being wanted," she confessed, tucking the now folded clean shirts on a shelf. "But it just makes me feel like I'm hurting someone. He looked hurt. He acted graciously and I think he understood when I told him that I lo—" Aero clamped her mouth shut quickly. She had almost her feelings slip.

"Told him what?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's just probably for the best if I hide out here, if that's okay?"

"Yeah. Always," he promised. He opened his arms to gesture that she was always welcome, but Aero took the motion as an invitation for a hug. She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. He gave her a moment to see if she would pull away, but when she didn't, his arms went around her waist and let his hands rest at her lower back. "I'm not wearing a shirt," he murmured, his mouth slightly obstructed by pieces of her hair.

She smiled into his collarbone. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No," he said much too quickly. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

She lifted her head and tucked her nose in the spot just below his ear. She liked it because it made his face flush and his skin go rigid with goose pimples. "No," she replied.

By mid-morning, Aero had almost sweat through her shirt. Mott had an order for a pair of oil dipped dual broadswords. The thin blades were meant for speed and accuracy, not power and they were more than enough to keep her busy while Gendry began working at the etching on the shoulder of the larger of the Valyrian Steel swords. She had just shoved the broadsword blade back into the hearth to reheat and dragged the hem of her shirt out of her trousers to wipe at her face when Jaime pushed his way through the front doors. Aero paused, shirt hem still in her hand and half of her stomach exposed before she collected herself.

"Thought I might find you here." Jaime smirked as he casually strolled farther into the room wearing his heavy Kingsguard armor. "If you're trying to hide from me, you might consider anywhere other than the first place I'd look."

Aero turned away from him and began to busy herself with tidying Halvic's work table that she was currently using. "I thought it might be easier if you didn't have to see me today," she explained.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Jaime shrug. "It probably would be but—"

A creaking hinge announced Gendry as he came in through the side door carrying his favorite ballpeen hammer he had only just broken. "I can't fix it," he growled. "It needs a new—Ser Jaime." Gendry looked back and forth from Jaime's annoyed expression to Aero's pained one. Clearly aware that he had interrupted something, he was about to back out of the room, but Jaime spoke before he had the chance.

"I just wanted to make sure you were safe," Jaime continued, addressing Aero. "I've done that so now I suppose I'll be going." Jaime turned, his white cloak flowing behind him. It was the last thing she saw as he bolted through the doors and into the city streets.

Feeling disgusted with herself and the cold way she was behaving, Aero gave Gendry a quick nod before following after Jaime. The streets were mostly deserted with everyone being at the tourney finals and they were alone when she called out to him. "I know you're upset with me," she began. "I just hope you're not so angry that I can't still speak to you."

He turned, the sadness in his eyes betraying the easy smirk he faked. "I'm not angry with you. I probably should be. My pride has sustained massive injuries, after all." He reached out to take her hand and she didn't pull it away. "But I'm not angry. Mostly amused and proud of you for standing up to my father. No one has done that in years. Of course now he'll be in an odorous mood for about a year, but I won't be here to see it. "

"You're leaving?" she asked hopefully.

Jaime nodded. "After the wedding. When you leave, I'm gone, too. I haven't told anyone yet. I've only decided just now."

Aero smiled, thrilled that he was getting away from King's Landing. "Where will you go?"

Jaime gave one of his non-committal shrugs. "The free cities. Or maybe North to Castle Black. I hear Jon Snow is alive. Maybe I'll go and try to find him. I have a couple of days before I have to figure it out."

* * *

The heat wave had to break soon. The shop was almost unbearable with the fire going, but since the sun had already gone down, the hearth and a few torches were the only light they had to see by. Gendry was cleaning up the Valyrian Steel shavings, very carefully using a steel wire brush to rake them into his hand. He hadn't told anyone, but he had been collecting the Valyrian leftovers. If there was enough, he wanted to make a ring for Aero before she left. He had almost made up his mind to go with her. If he didn't, at least this way, she would have something to remember him by. He tried not to think about the fact that the shavings he had been collecting to melt down were probably worth more than Mott's entire inventory and more gold dragons than he would ever see in his lifetime.

Aero was sitting at the worktable next to the hearth hunched over the smaller of the Valyrian swords. She used one of the diamond cutting tools to gently dig into the steel and piece by piece chip away at the pattern she had outlined on the sword's shoulder.

Sometime after the sun had dimmed and the heat inside the shop had become unbearable, she had warned Gendry that she was discarding her shirt. Gendry took little notice, being occupied with his own work, but now as he was cleaning up, he couldn't help his eyes wandering. Her breasts were bound in layers of fabric wrapped around her chest as they always were when she wore her work clothes. And the tight trousers she wore were a deep tan similar to the color of her skin. In the dim glow of the fire it was difficult to discern the two, lending very improper thoughts to his imagination. The flames from the hearth haloed around her, her skin glowing with a sheen of sweat making the light dance across her muscles as she moved. He was still stunned at her markings, even though he had seen them before when she had taken off her soaked-through shirt during the heavy rain. The way the fire light caught the slightly raised markings was mesmerizing to him. But then he looked up and chuckled to himself at the unkempt bundle of hair she had piled on top of her head and secured with what looked like the string from the neck of her discarded shirt.

"Aren't you tired yet?" he asked, teasingly. He knew as well as she did that when a smith gets lost in work, they forget the tiredness. Everything else just kind of falls away into the background.

She smiled at his voice and turned her head to look at him. Like her, he was covered in a fine layer of sweat, choosing to cool off with a damp rag rather than have that feeling of perpetual stickiness from wearing a sweaty shirt. "Come see," she called. "I've always been shit at engraving, but I think I'm getting the hang of it."

It amused him when she cursed. At first he thought it was her way of showing camaraderie with the small folk, pretending that she was just like him. As he come to find out on occasions when a spark accidentally seared through her shirt, she put the cursing men he knew to shame with her drawn out, inventive new ways of including buggery, whore, and cunt in the same sentence.

He leaned over her, drawing close so that he could also see the painstakingly minute details she was working on. She had created a design of the original sword, Ice, down the middle of the shoulder with filigree on either side just below where the hilt would attach.

He wondered what she had considered shit before because her engravings were as good as any other he had seen. Maybe not quite as good as his own. But then, he understood she was a perfectionist when it came to her art. So was he.

"It's quite good," he said, resting his palm on her bare shoulder as he would have a boy that he was mentoring. When he noticed his mistake, he jerked his hand away quickly.

She sighed at his reaction, drawing away like she had burned him. "Why do you do that?"

"I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," he mumbled and began to shuffle away.

"And that!" she added angrily.

"What?" he asked, now genuinely confused.

She dropped her tools and threw her hands up in frustration. "Why do you panic every time you feel like you're being too familiar with me?"

"I mean, you… You're a queen." He took another step back, trying to gain some distance, but she stood and moved closer to him.

"Do I look like a queen right now?" she inquired, angrily gesturing to herself. "I'm a sweaty mess just like you. I have slaved over these fires with you. I'm not a fragile little thing. If you want to touch me, touch me."

"I'm not… It's not…" He stumbled over his words trying to make sense of them.

She reached out for both of his hands and put them on either of her shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Am I scary to you?"

"No!" he assured her, shaking his head. He had seen her temper and perhaps he should be afraid of her, but he wasn't.

She moved his left hand from her shoulder up to cup the side of her face. His thumb raked across her cheek. "You've put your arms around me before," she argued. "I've shared things with you… After everything, do you think I would be angry if you put a hand on me?"

"No," he said again. "But I'm a bastard. I'm not meant to touch the likes of you."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise for a moment then narrowed. "Yeah? Then who is? You _want_ me to marry Ser Jaime? He's a highborn. A rich highborn." She gripped his hand she still held to her face tighter. "You want me in Jaime's chambers? At night? Alone?"

His eyes darkened. "No!"

"You would say who gets to touch me, but you can't touch me?" she scoffed.

He shook his head. "That's not what's happening. You're getting this all wrong."

"Then explain it to me," she pleaded.

"You're not from here!" He grimaced at his tone, but it couldn't be helped. Tugging at the hand on her face, he managed to slide it down to rest at the side of her neck, his thumb lazily rubbing circles behind her earlobe and his fingers caught in the loose hair at the nape of her neck. "You don't know how the system works. I'm a bastard, Aero. My mother was a tavern wench and who the hell even knows what my father was. I grew up in Flea Bottom and you grew up in a castle."

She felt the heat growing in her chest at his touch and the anger growing in her stomach at his words. "And?" She shook her head. "You say that like it means something. It doesn't matter to me."

His fingers tightened at the back of her neck and he warred with himself as he pulled her closer. "That doesn't change anything. You are what you are and I am nothing."

There was a moment of silence between them where the roar of the hearth and the sound of their own breaths were all that filled the room. And though he could usually read her face pretty well, the emotions she was feeling flitted in and out so fast that he couldn't recognize them quickly enough. Finally, her lip turned up in a snarl and her hands found his chest, pushing him hard—hard enough that he accidentally pulled a few hairs from the back of her skull when he was forced back a few steps.

"Fuck you and your nothing!" she exclaimed, breathing heavily. "I don't want nothing. Nothing bores me. If you want to be nothing, then you go right ahead."

Without bothering to say goodbye or even clean up, Aero grabbed her shirt and sword from a hook on the wall and uncharacteristically stomped away leaving him wondering what he had just done.

The sound of the door slamming behind her made him flinch. The quiet that followed made his heart go cold in his chest. He hadn't meant to insult her. Or refuse her. Or whatever he did—he still wasn't sure. His experience with women being very close to nothing, he didn't understand how telling her that she deserves better could possibly make her angry with him. He had heard other men speak of the irrationality of their wives and women they were courting, but until now, Aero had never been so unreasonable or hard headed. Furious with himself, Gendry grabbed up the nearest wooden stool and hurled it against the stone wall. The crash left the stool in pieces on the floor.

She didn't understand that he would give anything to be able to be with her—to touch her without feeling like shit because he loved someone he could never have. 'We're friends.' Her words echoed in his head. _Not anymore_ , he thought bitterly. He had just managed to alienate one of the very few people that he cared about or cared about him. The dreams that he entertained of himself going to Eryatheia with her vanished.

Gendry sighed, defeated, and slouched over his work table when the fear gripped him. Would he ever see her again? He swallowed hard and shoved the ice that he felt creeping into his chest down as far as he could. The aches in his muscles seemed insignificant now. He needed to work. It was the only thing that could keep his mind busy and not let every emotion he was feeling reduce him to ash.


	14. Beautiful Tragic

**Warning: This chapter has smut.**

By the next morning, the heat wave had broken. The night held a tumultuous thunderstorm that rattled the candleholders in Aero's chamber, but by morning, the storm had shifted and the sun drifted in and out of the clouds. A cool breeze wafted through the castle and bringing a chill through the bay and into the streets of King's Landing. _Winter is Coming_ , she thought. The Starks were always right eventually. But this winter was bringing more than just cool breeze.

She stared up at the great canopy above her decorated in scarlets and golds, letting her mind wander. She wondered momentarily where Jon Snow was North of the Wall—if he was still with the free folk, if he was safe. She wondered if Oberyn would ever be able to see past his hate for every Lannister that roamed Westeros. She wondered what Evann would do when she was gone. She wondered at her mother and father. They had an arranged marriage and still loved one another. Perhaps she would allow her father to arrange a marriage for her. If she left Gendry here in Westeros, what did it matter who her father chose for her? Her suitor would never be what she wanted—who she wanted. Jaime would be a wonderful husband, but she would never allow him to be her second choice when he deserved someone that could truly love him. And if she was going to die soon, maybe marrying a stranger would be for the best.

She had told no one about her fight with Gendry. Even if it was on her mind every second, she vowed to plaster on a smile when it was appropriate and do what was expected of her. She had nowhere to hide from her responsibilities anymore.

Aero lounged in bed for much longer than she should have, willing Bet to bathe first. When she finally pulled herself from underneath the covers and had her bath, Bet helped her dress in one of her more elegant dresses though she wanted her trousers and her thin linen shirt. The thin fire red silks of her dress draped her body proactively and showed a little too much skin at the neckline and back. The silks left a scandalous slit of exposed leg up to the middle of her left thigh, and the dress itself was made similar to a robe, cinching at her hip just above her sword belt. It made her feel delightfully wicked. And at the moment, feeling anything other than empty was worth incurring the malicious glares of Cersei and some of the other ladies of court. Her golden circlet rested on the table and for a moment she considered not wearing it. She considered a lot of things, but in the end, she placed the golden circlet on her brow and gave herself one last hard look in the mirror before following Bet from the room.

* * *

"Before we go, we have to explore the dragon pits," Evann reminded her as they stood together in the Great Hall watching a jester perform for the King. It was the day before the wedding and the city was alive with chaos. The writhing masses, rich and poor took to the streets to absorb the excitement. There were singers and jesters and performers constantly in the Great Hall, entertaining the nobles. So many perfumed nobles were gathered in the large room that it hardly seemed large at all. Joffrey sat on the Iron Throne above the others while his family either sat or stood around him along with Margaery and the Tyrells. Aero opted not to stand with them and instead flitted in amongst the crowd speaking to people that knew her family. Jaime was on duty for such an auspicious occasion and she could see him watching her anxiously as she snaked through the crowd. Aero filtered in and out of the festivities, sometimes with Prince Oberyn, and sometimes with Evann and Bet. Evann begrudgingly dressed in a silk tunic for the occasion. She would look over to find him tugging at the tight collar around his neck and she would smile to herself. He hated dressing up.

But though she had plenty distraction to keep her busy, Aero found that her mind was with Gendry in the forge. She didn't mean what she had said. Well, truthfully, she did mean it. What she didn't mean was to insinuate that Gendry was nothing. She never believed it. If only he would stop being dumb and see it for himself.

Aero was growing anxious as it was nearing the end of the evening. There was still plenty of entertainment, and the wine continued to flow freely. The combination of drunken men about the room and their fondness for groping women as they walked by caused her to stick to the outskirts of the room, holding fast to the shadows after making sure that Evann had escorted Bet upstairs to her chambers.

"You look more troubled than last I saw you, Little Queen," she heard from behind her. She could never mistake the smooth Dornish voice for anyone other than Oberyn. She smiled and turned to take the hand he offered. "Come dance with me and tell me what is upsetting you."

He pulled her near the center of the room and she considered resisting, but she felt that any time spent with Oberyn was precious and she wouldn't say no to him.

"You only just saw me at dinner," she laughed as he spun her out into a twirl and brought her back to collect her in his arms.

"And even then, your mind seemed to be far away. Tell me where you've gone, Little Queen," he pressed.

She quickly, and in hushed tones, explained how Tywin had planned her marriage to Jaime and how Jaime had followed her out into the corridor afterward.

Much to her surprise, her story amused Oberyn more than it made him angry. "Marry a Lannister? Ha! I'd sooner see you marry a pig as a lion," he laughed, picking her up by the waist as the dance called for.

"Jaime and Tyrion aren't what you think," she argued. "As much as Tyrion desires Tywin's approval, they are nothing alike. And-"

"And I suppose you are going to tell me the Kingslayer is as innocent as a baby lamb," Oberyn cooed at her, patronizingly.

"No." She shook her head. "Far from it. He's done terrible things, though I believe they were in the pursuit of what he thought was just at the time. Surely there is a grey area when you grow up with Tywin Lannister as a father."

Oberyn smiled, good-naturedly and shrugged. "I suppose I can concede to the idea that not every child turns out like the father that raised them. You, for example."

"Me?"

He spun her so that her back was against his chest as they continued to move among the other dancing bodies. "You've killed and yet your father is a gentle man that has never raised a sword to harm. I recognize that you did not grow up with hate in your heart and yet you still chose the path of the sword. You are a wonderful contradiction. But it makes me sad."

She pushed away and turned to face him, frustration and confusion warring on her face. "I make you sad?"

Oberyn stopped dancing and moved closer to her. She bit her lip as he reached out to caress her hair and cup the side of her face. "You remind me so much of my daughters," he whispered in a moment of gravity. "I would save them from this life if I could. I had no choice but to teach them how kill because they are women of Dorne and my daughters and they will never be safe." He took her hands and raised them to rest on his shoulders. "But you, darling girl," he continued, moving with the music again, "with three older brothers to protect you and a kind, noble father to raise you, you should not have to bear this burden."

Her hands slid from the back of his neck to the front of his tunic, pushing at him as he kept his hands at her waist. "I am not a helpless thing, Oberyn," she growled. "You are of Dorne, but I _am_ Eryatheia. I am a queen. I am a Blessed One. My people depend on me to keep them safe, and until my dying breath, I will. My father may have a gentle heart, but mine is made of fire. Maybe this shouldn't be my burden, but it is. And I will meet it head on." She stepped back, out of his grip and nodded to him. "Please excuse me."

She didn't understand why he couldn't just be proud of her. When she was young, training hard with her brothers and Evann, she would often think of Oberyn and it was his notoriety as one of the best fighters in Westeros that made her work harder. She idolized him—the prince that taught her to catch fireflies. Every time when her father would suggest she take up another skill, learn a different trade, sew instead of train, she would imagine Oberyn telling her the opposite. It was disheartening after so long of trying to live up to Oberyn's expectations to find out that he would rather her be a simpering, helpless girl.

She weaved her way through the moving bodies and out of the great hall until she found a corridor that was mostly empty. Leaning against the wall, she willed herself to let go of the catch in her throat and force back the frustrated tears that were threatening to brim over.

"Aero?" Jaime hesitantly approached her and she quickly pushed off from the wall and wiped at her eyes in case any lingering wetness would give her away.

"Of course you're here right now," she sighed. She hated that he was always witness to her not-so-great moments.

"I saw you speaking with the Viper and then rush out," he explained, reaching out to rub her shoulders reassuringly. "Did he hurt you?"

Aero shook her head and shrugged off his hands from her body. "Gods, when will you both grow up and stop hating one another for crimes you didn't commit?"

A noise behind them alerted them to the presence of a drunken man fumbling his way through the hall, staying close to the wall for balance. They quieted and looked away until the man passed into the darkness farther down the hall. "I have no quarrel with House Martell," he promised, drawing his attention back to her.

"But you still don't like Prince Oberyn."  
Jaime shrugged and gave her an easy lopsided grin. "I imagine he's not very fond of me either." He tried again to comfort her and leaned in to take one of her hands in his. She let him for a moment. In her frustration with Gendry and her disillusionment with Oberyn, Jaime felt like a calming presence. It was weakness that made her want him to pull her into hug and hold her there, but it was stubbornness that made her keep her distance.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Don't let me keep you from your guard duties."

"You're not fine." He tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her face to more easily read her emotions. "You were just crying."

She moved her chin out his grasp and tugged her hand away. "You must be mistaken, Ser Jaime," she said flatly, not meeting his eyes.

He stepped back and dropped his hands at his side. "If you say so, Your Grace," he responded in the same flat tone and bowed to her before turning his back to return to the great hall.

Feeling like she had done enough mingling to make up for missing the tournament finals, Aero didn't feel much like returning to the entertainment and drunken men waiting just down the corridor. She knew what she _wanted_ to do. Worried if she thought too much on it, she would talk herself out of it, Aero slithered through the people that had poured into the foyer of the great hall and managed to procure a cloak that was lying across a bench.

She thought surely its owner was probably so deep in his cups that he wouldn't be worried about missing a cloak for a couple of hours. The dark grey wool was heavy and large enough to cover her dress with a hood low enough to obscure her face. Silently, she crept past the doors, through the castle, and out into the street where the sun was setting behind the city walls.

Gendry had just finished securing the leather around the pommel of a sword belonging to the Velryons. Only the grip needed replacing, but he took it upon himself to polish the sword just for something to keep him occupied. He was sheathing the Velryon sword when he heard the side door creak. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She was the only one that used the side door instead of knocking on the front. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do or say, but kept his back to her. He didn't want emotions he wasn't even sure about himself to show on his face when he finally faced her.

"I hoped you would be here," she said hesitantly, testing him.

"I live here," he grunted, carrying on with cleaning his work station. He was so relieved she had come back, but the hurt was still raw.

The spelled Valyrian swords lay finished on Halvic's work table. He had worked through the night on those. Then the Valyrian Steel ring he had made for her from the sword scraps. That had taken him most of the day for such a small thing. And the Velryon sword was a quick fix. He hadn't slept. And he hoped it didn't show.

"We're leaving in two days," she began quietly. "And I… I wanted to come apologize."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Your Grace," he assured her harshly as he finally turned to face her. He leaned casually back against his table and crossed his arms over his chest. "You didn't tell me anything that I didn't already know."

He saw her visibly flinch like he had slapped her. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head, her eyebrows drawing together. "Gods, you're stupid. You're so stupid, Gendry," she declared, stepping toward him.

Gendry dipped his head. This was something else he already knew. "This is your apology? It needs work."

She moved to stand in front of him, barely and arm's length away. "No," she insisted. "I take it back. I'm not apologizing." He turned his head away from her and prepared for her to condemn him to all the hells he knew. "I want you."

He wasn't sure he had heard her right, but his breath caught in his throat and his head snapped up anyway. "And if you don't want me, that's fine," she continued. "But you're not going to stand there and tell me what's good for me like people have been doing my entire life. You have hang ups about being a bastard? That's your problem. But I am not going to let you make my decisions for me just because you feel like you're not good enough."

She poked him in the chest for good measure, but then reached to take his dirty hands in hers and held them until he met her eyes. "You are _not_ nothing. You never were. I mean it when I say that it doesn't matter to me that you're a bastard, that you were born in Flea Bottom, that you're not a wealthy man with titles. If I wanted a fancy lord with titles and lands, I would go find one." She sighed and squeezed his hands in hers. "But I only want you. Just you. And if you tell me you don't want me, I will go and you won't have to see me again. I promise." She stared up at him with eyes so big and blue, pleading with him while he stared back at her in disbelief. "Do you want me to leave?"

The idea of never seeing her again, now, after her confession, made him grip her hands tighter in panic. How was it possible that she wanted him, too? His mind was whirling, but he felt the pinpricks of her nails digging into palm like an anchor. He looked down at their joined hands. His were so much bigger than hers. Rolling her palms up, he saw that they showed signs of wear like his did. They would never be equals, but here in the deep red light of the dying hearth, they found a common ground.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "No." _I love you_ , he wanted to say instead.

Aero took another step forward, hope in her voice. "Do you want me to stay?" Gendry clenched his jaw and turned his head so that she might not see his desperation. "Do you- Do you want me?"

"Yes," he whispered. He had always wanted her; he had just never let himself admit it out loud before.

"Show me," she demanded.

She pulled him closer and placed his hands around her waist beneath the cloak before allowing herself to slowly feel her way up his strong arms. She felt the tension in his muscles as if he were still unsure. His fingers dug into her skin as she stepped closer, bringing her hands up his biceps and shoulders before traveling down over his broad chest. His heart beat wildly under her fingertips.

He grew brave under her exploration of his body, daring to push forward, closing the distance between them so that their stomachs pressed together. He unfastened the cloak she was wearing, allowing it to fall to the floor before he moved a hand up her side, letting his fingers barely graze the thin fabric that covered her breast. It was still enough to send shivers down her body. His fingers brushed the skin of her neck and then his palm rested itself just underneath her jaw, his fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of her neck. He brushed his thumb across her cheek and took turns between looking into her eyes and staring at her lips. They were open. Barely. And they looked soft and full and inviting. He had never kissed a girl before.

"Is this…" His voice was deep and gravely with need. "Do you want this?" Aero held his eyes, unsure if her voice would break him out of this dreamlike state they were both in. She nodded. His eyes narrowed down at her mouth and he licked his lips without thinking. She let him lead as he leaned in, kissing her softly, still a little unsure, but not scared. His mouth felt heavy on hers and his lips tasted like smoke from the fire. It was intoxicating.

He slowly pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were full of questions—if she liked the way he kissed her, was he too rough, going too fast, could he kiss her again? She took the initiative this time, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his face back to hers.

She had practiced kissing before with Evann when they were young and curious. And then Jaime had kissed her in the hallway of the Keep. Evann's kisses were innocent. Jaime's kiss wasn't. Even so, Jaime didn't make explosions go off behind her eyelids, or her legs go all wobbly and her stomach tighten when he kissed her. Gendry did.

His hand on her face was gentle. His hand on her hip gripped her like a vice. Her lips melded against his as she unconsciously moved her hips to press closer to him.

He broke of the kiss with a grunt, his eyelids half closed and his voice unsteady. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," he breathed.

"So fight me off," she countered.

Her breath was warm on his face as her chest rose and fell against his in uneven breaths. The last of his self-control broke when she gripped the back of his head and brought his lips down hard against hers. He wrapped his arms possessively around her, one hand tangled in her hair and the other tight around the small of her back as he backed her against the nearest wall. He pressed the length his body against her, trapping her against the stone. She didn't seem as though she minded. A sound escaped from the back of her throat and she lifted a leg over his hip, suddenly very aware of the thin silks of her dress. She was more than a little pleased with herself when he emitted a low growl against her lips when she tilted her hips forward again to grate against the growing bulge in his pants.

They pushed and dragged at each other forcefully, wanting more. There was no safety in a kiss like this. And they both knew that there was no going back from it. The desire was too heavy—too solid.

When she had her fill of his lips, she moved down, kissing a line from his mouth to nibble at his neck. The smooth fabric of her dress bunched in his hands as he tried to keep his composure. She was going to drive him mad with her wandering hands and the little groans she made when he rutted against her. He held his breath and his gut tightened when her hands began to explore lower, running over his stomach and down his hips, teasing him. He twisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head to the side to attack the spot just below her ear that he found made her knees go weak.

"Gendry?" she breathed. He grunted in response. "What's this?"

Winded and fuzzy headed, he drew back from her, confused. "What?"

She tugged at the hip of his trousers, dipping her fingers into the sewn-in pocket and pulled out the Valyrian steel ring he had made for her. "This is Ice," she marveled at the small smoky grey circle, twisting it in her fingers. "Parts of it. And parts from the new swords."

"Yeah." Gendry looked away, self-conscious, even now. "I saved the shavings and made it for you."

"For me?" she asked, incredulously. "Gendry, this is worth more than-"

"I know," he assured her, cutting her off.

"But you were angry with me."

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "I wanted you to have something that reminded you of your time here—of me, I guess. Selfish," he muttered as he began to pull away. She caught him and pulled him back to her.

"I don't need a ring to remember you, Gendry," she spoke softly, his face a breath away from hers. "You should keep it."

He chuckled low in his chest and she could feel the vibrations in her own. "It doesn't fit me," he argued, taking her hand and tested in on her middle finger first before it slipped easily down her fourth finger. She felt a pulse in the metal like she felt the pulse in her own chest. She felt the fears, the loyalties, and the hearts of the men who had carried Ice over hundreds of generations. The emotions seeped into her and made her bold beyond what she could have imagined of herself at that moment.

She gave Gendry a hard, deep kiss and took his hand to lead him upstairs. He followed her, willingly, because, what else could he do as a man of ten and nine years who had never known the touch of a woman. He nudged the door of his room shut with his foot as she pulled him to her again. With slow, methodical movements, she reached for the hem of his shirt and held eye contact as she pulled it over his head. Taking direction, Gendry made to undo the clasp of her sword belt, removing it from her waist and setting it aside on his desk. He only watched as she lifted the golden circlet from her head and placed it on his desk next to her sword.

The sharp, jagged feeling in his chest nagged at him as he watched her kick her shoes off. He kicked off his boots in response. The weight of the moment felt so monumental, so epic, so amazingly perfect that he shoved the sharp, jagged feeling in his chest that he knew to be his anxiety and fears in the back of his mind and made the step forward to trace Aero's collarbone with his finger. She inhaled sharply and goose pimples shot over her body, making her skin more sensitive. Gendry hooked a finger in the thin strap of her dress and dragged it over her shoulder, pressing kisses in the empty spaces that had been covered. He did the same for the other shoulder. She brought his hands down to the tie at her hip that was holding her dress closed. He worked quickly at the long strands of knotted cloth until the two sides of the dress parted and hung open slightly giving him a slim view of her bare hip. He swallowed hard and peeled the fabric away, revealing her as the dress pooled on the floor at their feet.

Aero stood before him with only a thin set of silk smallclothes covering very little of her lower half. He sucked in a harsh breath and chewed at his lower lip willing himself not to show how he was trembling inside. The light markings on her skin reflected softly in the moonlight and he was entrance by them—how they danced over deep tanned skin, whirling lines crossing and intersecting in a delicate pattern that he could spend years studying. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but his feet and his brain didn't seem to be working. Instead, she stepped forward, her breast molding to the curve of his outstretched hand. He experimentally raked a thumb along the underside of the smooth skin and then higher over the nipple, enjoying the way it pebbled underneath his touch. He lifted and lightly squeezed one breast and then the other, testing the weight with equal fascination and curiosity. To be honest, he could spend the rest of his life tracing the curves of her breasts, over her stomach, down to the meeting of her thighs, but her quiet chuckle drew him out of his reverie and caused him to meet her eyes again. The amusement in her face made him flush with charmed embarrassment.

"Don't be embarrassed," she was quick to tell him, pulling his face back to her until their foreheads met and their noses touched. "You look at me like I'm beautiful."

"You _are_ beautiful," he whispered nudging at her nose with his own and smearing kisses across her cheek.

Aero kissed him again, fully, and drew him with her until the backs of her knees hit the edge of his small cot. Tucking a foot underneath her on the bed, she gracefully slid down his body, trailing a line of sloppy kisses down his sternum to his navel before she tugged on his hand for him to join her on the cot.

Navigating space was difficult. It was a small cot barely big enough for him but as she pulled him down, her thighs instinctively made a cradle for him to lie in. He reveled in her, enjoying the feeling of her spread out underneath him. He had imagined this many times at night, alone in his bed, but the reality left his head spinning. She let her fingers rake down his chest, to his abdomen following the sparse line of dark hair lower to the waist of his trousers. Her hands began working at the string of his trousers, desperate to feel what was underneath. She tugged at the leathers trying to pull them down over his hips, managing to fully get them off only with his help. He settled back into the space between her thighs fighting between his own selfish desires and letting Aero lead at her own pace. He hoped, he prayed even, that she wouldn't stop. His need for her drove him to grind his freed erection into her smallclothes, but his concern for her forced him to pause. "I shouldn't," he insisted shaking his head. "I'll ruin you."

She smiled up at him, scratching gently at his beard and leaned up to press a soft but lingering kiss to his lips. "I hope so," she replied, resting back onto the mattress, her long black hair haloed around her. He was dazed enough by her kiss that he didn't pay attention to her hands creeping lower between their bodies to grip his erection. Every muscle he had contracted and vibrated at her touch. And though her hands were inexperienced, she made up for it with bravery, confidently circling her fingers around the shaft and caressing the length of him in long, smooth strokes.

"Gods!" Gendry swore and buried his face in her neck. He couldn't remember anything ever feeling as good as her hand felt. He didn't want her to stop, but he knew he would be finished before they'd even started if he let her continue. "Not yet," he murmured more to himself as he batted her hands away. She seemed put out with his denial of her touch until his hand replaced hers between their bodies.

Gendry pulled at her small, silk underclothes, but when presented with the choice of shifting away to remove the tiny article of clothing that could be his undoing, or tearing the thin material away, it was an easy decision. She heard the rip of the seams, but couldn't be bothered to care. Aero's torn undergarments fluttered to floor next to her dress and she shifted her thigh higher on his hip as his fingers dug at the skin of her ass.

He was drunk with skin-on-skin contact. He couldn't understand how her skin could be so soft—how anyone could smell so good. Forgetting not to give in to the instant gratification, he ground himself down into her sex eliciting a low growl as she kissed and nipped at his wide shoulders.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please be inside me."

Her request came in breathless gasps that aroused him as much as it scared him. Doubts washed over him. He had never been with anyone before. What if he was terrible? He didn't have male friends to talk about sex with. The knowledge he had was very basic and taken from over-exaggerated tales from men boasting about their sexual prowess after too many cups of ale. "You have to help me," he breathed, hovering over her, unsure. She nodded and moved to take him in her hand again, parting her slick folds with the tip and positioning him at her entrance. She nodded again, encouraging him to push forward.

"Go slow, go slow," she panted, wincing.

Gendry held her gaze as he pushed inside of her with agonizing slowness, watching her face. She did the same, squeezing tighter at his biceps as he invaded her. Her eyebrows drew together and she bit at her bottom lip, but didn't give him any indication to stop. Finally, when he had sunk himself in her as deep as he could, he let out a breath and rested his forehead against hers. It wasn't like he thought it would be. It was better. He could feel the muscles deep inside of her struggling to accept him, tightening around his dick in new and exciting ways.

"Okay?" he asked, smoothing some stray hairs at her temple.

Aero nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He stayed buried in her, fluttering kisses over her cheeks and back down to lavish attention at the spot on her neck that made her fall apart like jelly underneath him. Aero ran her fingers through his disheveled hair and guided him back to her lips. He kissed her softly and just reveled in the feel of her, the taste of her, the soft whimpers she made when he pressed his lips to her skin. They stayed like that for several heartbeats, drinking one another in while he gave her time to get used to him inside her.

Gendry kissed his way from her collarbone up to her neck and, with a little urging on her part, he braced himself over her and began to move. The feeling was nothing short of pure ecstasy. He groaned low in his throat and had to constantly remind himself that he couldn't pound himself into her with abandon even if that's what he wanted at the moment. He was careful to watch her face despite the difficulty of being able to focus on any specific thing while his conscious was being fractured. Though, there were small things that broke into the forefront of his mind. He enjoyed how her stiff nipples raked against his chest as he used his entire body to thrust into her, and how her hands roamed over his body, unwilling to stay in one place. He increased his pace little by little and felt so powerful driving into her in long, sometimes erratic strokes that caused her nails to drag over his shoulders and dig tiny half-moons into his back.

The deep, impacting surges caused her to whisper words he didn't understand and throw her head back into his pillow, her face marred with lust. He could feel the beat of her thundering heart keeping time with his as the wooden cot underneath them crudely creaked in rhythm with his thrusts. He could feel the muscles of her walls clinging to him every time he pulled out, only to suck him back in when he pushed forward and every thrust he made was punctuated by one of her small screams. He hoped she was feeling what he was feeling—the low coil in the pit of his stomach that only seemed to be getting bigger and the wonderful trembling in his muscles. He caught her lips in a quick kiss and buried his face in her neck, feeling her shuddering underneath him.

Her soft pants turned in to words, some he recognized, some he didn't as she brought her knees higher around his waist while she struggled to push her hips up against his at the same time. They had developed a symbiotic rhythm that soon began to falter the more desperate they became. He pressed beautifully filthy words into her skin with his lips and she nipped at his earlobe. "Gendry," she breathed into his ear in a high gasp. His response was to lower himself onto her completely, his arms underneath her shoulder blades and his hands gripping her shoulders for leverage. "Gendry," she breathed again more hurriedly.

He captured her lips again and felt the coil low in his stomach begin to completely unravel. He chased the sensation, recklessly plunging into her, her voice barely permeating his conscious.

"Please," she begged again and again until her voice gave out. She was more than just trembling beneath him now. She was vibrating. He was worried he had hurt her, that he had done something wrong when she went stiff underneath him. He tried to pull away to check on her, but her hands clutched at him, pulling him back down to her while her back arched against the straw mattress. The walls around his hardness contracted and spasmed around him, causing him to bite down on her shoulder. Her hand with the Valyrian Steel ring gripped the side of his neck and he felt the ring spark and burn into his skin with red welts that disappeared as quickly as they rose. Despite the pain of Aero's scalding ring, he felt a rush of bliss course through his body, tightening his muscles and heightening his climax. He groaned loudly against her neck and his arms held her in a death grip. His breathing had stopped and it felt like his heart had, too, until he finally heaved out a breath and releasing her only when he felt the last vestiges of his orgasm trickling into her. It didn't occur to him until then that maybe he shouldn't have spilled his seed inside of her. He cursed himself for not thinking of her, for potentially being responsible for bringing another bastard into the world and ruining her out of wedlock.

But she seemed much less concerned with this than he was. When she caught her breath, she stretched, cat-like underneath him, arching her back and extending her legs in long, languid turns.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, concerned, propping himself above her.

She shook her head with a contented smirk. "No. It was nice," she assured him as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Do you think it get better than that?"

"Was it not good for you?"

"It was, I promise," she laughed at his disappointed tone. "I just thought that… I was told that it would… not be pleasant… the first time."

"But it was? Pleasant?"

Aero reached up to smooth away the worried furrows in his brow with her thumb and smiled at him. "It was wonderful."

He dipped back down to kiss her, lingering when she sighed his name. "Do you need anything?" he asked, kissing a line down her neck. "Water?"

She wriggled underneath him sending an unintentional shock of pleasure to his very tired loins. He groaned and leaned on her heavily.  
"Sorry," she giggled. "I just need air. You're crushing me a little."

Gendry wrapped his arm underneath the small of her back and flipped them with some maneuvering in the small space until he lay on his back and she lay half on top of him with her head tucked into the nook of his neck, her breasts pushed into his side and her legs tangled in his. She pressed lazy kisses on his chest where she could reach but then gave in to her fatigue, resting against him.

Gendry unconsciously caressed Aero's back as he stared up at the ceiling in the dim room. They hadn't stopped to light a candle and thee only light they had came from the moon shining through the only window across from his bed. A pleasant breeze blew in and Gendry watched the baby hairs at Aero's temple dance in the draft. She was drawing lazy circles on his chest with her finger tips when he took her hand in his, playing with her fingers. Coming together with Aero had felt so momentous and so final. All of his thoughts and dreams had reached this moment, but he never considered what could possibly come after. It left him with more questions than answers. Questions that he felt silly bothering her with.

"Why me?" he finally summoned up the courage to ask. "What do you possibly see in me that makes you want me?"

"Mmm," she mused, taking her time to answer. "There are a lot of things I like about you, Gendry Waters. Would you like me to name them all?"

"One would be surprise enough to me."

"Evann has this thing about love at first sight, but…"

"But it wasn't," he finished for her, not really offended. When she first saw him he was sweating like a fat man in Dorne. He didn't fault her for not falling all over herself at the sight.

"Not quite," she admitted. "I thought you were attractive, but I didn't want to write poetry about your sweaty leathers." He chuckled at her and turned to kiss her forehead. "It was gradual. I was amused at your shyness. I found it charming and endearing and so unassuming. I liked spending time with you and you didn't expect anything from me other than being a good blacksmith. It made me trust you—made me love you.

"You love me?" he asked with a start. Somewhere in his mind he had come to this realization. He didn't imagine Aero would bed just anyone. But hearing her say it made his heart race and his stomach flip.

"Did I say that?"

"You did."

Aero shrugged and wriggled against his side trying to get closer. "Well, I guess if I've already admitted it, there's no taking it back now."

"I thought you were exotic and dangerous," he admitted freely. "I'd never seen a woman with a sword before. But I couldn't stop looking at you. And then you were chasing after Ovid in the clearing and it changed the way I looked at you."

"How?"

"It was easy to keep my distance from you before. You're a queen. I'd never met a queen, but I knew it wasn't commonplace that a queen would care about a lowborn blacksmith's apprentice. But then you're chasing a massive winged horse and you voluntarily want to spend time with me away from the forge. I put my arms around you. You put your head on my shoulder and you told me we were friends and I… Gods. I fell in love with you and I hated myself for it." Aero lifted herself up on her elbow to hover over him, her face full of concern. "And now you're in my bed," he continued. "How did that happen?"

She leaned in to kiss him hard, and he felt it radiate inside him, warming his chest. She loved him. Nothing else mattered.

The sound of their lips parting echoed in the small room. "Did you ever think about bedding me? I mean before?"

He tilted his head back and looked up at the rafters, smirking. "I wouldn't like to admit how often I thought about it." Her loose, mussed curls escaped from behind her shoulder and tickled his stomach as she leaned over him. "But never in a million winters did I think you would bed me."

* * *

His sincerity caused her breath to catch in her throat. The way he looked at her made her feel warm all over, smoothing away her insecurities and doubts. But reality could only pause for so long and she was dragged back into her fears. She had told Jaime her secret and she thought… hoped that she might spare Gendry. But now…

"There's something I should tell you," she began, avoiding his adoring gaze.

He ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. "You can tell me anything." Aero sighed, fitfully and sat up, disentangling her legs from his and crossing them underneath her. "What is?" he asked, sitting up, anxious now.

"Gendry, I'm so sorry." She reached to take his hand and he let her. "I should have told you before. I mean, before all this," she gestured to them in the bed. "So that you would have the choice. You still have the choice, but it's going to be harder now."

"What? What choice?"

Her grip on his hand tightened. She had been so selfish. "To love me or not," she explained, worried that she would cry for the second time that night. "Because I should have told you earlier that my life—I'm going to die soon." She let out a hard breath and Gendry's face contorted in confusion.

"Is there- Are you sick? Surely there are medicines—"

She shook her head. "I'm not sick. It's just… It's difficult to explain. I can feel it inside me. I can feel my time getting thinner like a candle burning down. I don't know when. I just know it's soon." Gendry had stopped listening, she could tell in the way his eyes narrowed at a spot on the floor, unfocused. "I'm so sorry," she continued. "I should have told you."

"Okay," he nodded after a few moments had passed.

"Okay, what?"

"I believe in you and I believe in your magic, but I don't believe you're dying," he stated matter-of-factly. "It has to be something else. Something you're not accounting for. Not death."

"Gendry," she sighed. Denial was the first stage. But at least she had told him.

"No," he shook his head. "Unless you tell me that you know with complete certainty, I won't accept it."

"It's not a matter of being certain. I just know that there's this pull in me. It's something big and final and it feels like the end. Like a great black void."

Gendry looked away from her, back to the same spot on the floor. "I just found you," he whispered.

Aero shifted on the cot to crawl over him, sitting across his lap and letting him wind his arms around her and pull her against his chest. His light fingers sent chills across her naked body, but he smoothed them away with his rough palms as he held her. "Will you do something for me?" she asked. "Will you come home to Eryatheia? Even if I don't make it?"

His jaw clenched and his grip around her tightened. "There is no Eryatheia without you."

"Yes, there is," she argued, catching hold of his chin and forcing him to look at her. "I've already sent word to Ilando that you're to be given my shop or the castle forge. Whichever one you choose. You can design and make your own weapons. You can do whatever you want."

Gendry didn't answer her. Instead, he took his time memorizing the curves of her face and the lines in her eyes. He loved finding the specks of gold in amongst the blue. Somehow it was always a surprise to find it there. "I'll go to Eryatheia _with you_ ," he emphasized. "And I will live with you wherever you say. And I will love you until you are bored of me and long after that."

"Mmm," she hummed low in her throat. She folded her arms and leaned into him, tucking her head in the bend of his neck. "Keep saying nice things."

"Will your family let you marry me?"

"Let? What is this word 'let'?" she mocked with a smile. "Even if they didn't, do you think that would stop me? You're mine now."

"What about… Would we have children?" Her eyes were closed, but she felt him place his palm tenderly across her stomach just below her navel. She hadn't thought about children. In the excitement and overwhelming pleasure that had rippled through her at the time, it didn't occur to Aero to worry about such things. Gendry had spilled his seed inside of her. Just remembering made her cheeks flush and a sharp tug pulled at the pit of her stomach.

"More than you would know what to do with," she promised him, placing a kiss just below his jaw. Her hand covered his on her stomach and she allowed herself to dream it could be true.

"Then that settles it," he nodded, decided.

Aero pulled her face away from his neck to look up at him. "Settles what?

"I've never had a family before." He took the time again to push her hair away from her face and back over her shoulder before he cupped her jaw and stared at her with something she recognized as close to wonderment. "You're not dying," he stated, simply. "You're not going anywhere. The gods themselves could come down to claim you and I still wouldn't give you up. Whatever it is, we'll find a way out of it."

She lingered with him for a while longer, sharing kisses and laughing with him in the dark. When the chill overtook them, they retreated under his thin blanket continuing to explore one another.

"I need to get back to the Keep," she said, finally, with a sigh.

"Stay a little longer?" he requested, running his hands over her back and urging her to lie back down.

"Now you want to touch me?" she laughed. She stood and moved to collect her clothing from the floor. The first item she picked up were her smallclothes. Her face flushed again at the memory of Gendry ripping them off of her. She examined the seams and realizing it wouldn't be worth it to tell the seamstress how they were ripped, she balled them up in her fist and threw them at Gendry's face. He only laughed and tucked the small swath of silk under his pillow.

She felt his eyes rake over her as she dressed, pulling her dress back around her and cinching the tie at her hip.

"I'm afraid if I let you go, I'll wake up tomorrow and this will have been a dream," he confessed as she was slipping her feet into her shoes.

"Then I will come back tomorrow to remind you that it's not," she smiled leaning down to kiss him. "And then I'll have to steal you away from this wretched city. Just long enough for the wedding to be over and we can leave this place." She pulled back to look at him, to really look at his strong features. They had always struck her as familiar, but now she couldn't tell if it was because she knew his face by heart or maybe he shared similarities with someone she had known once. She couldn't place it.

"Ask me again to come home with you," he commanded with a lusty gravel in his voice. Her dress shifted as he pushed the material aside to stroke her thigh with his fingertips.

She kissed him again and leaned in farther, holding herself a breath away from his lips. "Gendry," she purred, "will you come home with me? Will you meet my family and make love with me on a feather bed?"

He closed his eyes and hummed low in his throat, blindly reaching for her. "When you put it that way…" She yelped in surprise when he grabbed for her waist and pulled her down on top of him, kissing her before she could curse him.

"I have to go," she insisted many, many moments later. His hands were bunched in her skirts. "I want to get back before it gets too late."

"I'll walk with you."

"No!" she exclaimed much too quickly. "If someone sees us…"

"What?" He let her push herself off of him and followed her with his eyes as she moved to retrieve her sword and crown from his desk.

"They know I spend a lot of time here. I'm not worried about Tywin, but Cersei… If she knew, she could use you to hurt me. She could hurt _you_."

"I can take care of myself," he argued, offended.

She sighed and moved to sit beside him on the edge of the small cot. "These people, they're monsters. They shed blood like rain and they kill children for sport. I'm not letting them anywhere near you. You can fight me. You can curse me. I don't care. But you're going to stay safe. Do you understand me?"

"No." He shook his head, defiantly. If _he_ asked _her_ to stay put and stay safe, she would most certainly tell him to go fuck himself. "I'm not scared of the Lannisters."

"You should be." She ran her hand down the side of his face to cup his cheek. "Do this for me," she pleaded, pressing her forehead to his. She couldn't let anything happen to him now. Not after… "Please do this for me."

"For you." He reluctantly gave in, scowling. "Because I love you," he added.

"I love you," she echoed. Aero stood only to drop back down at his side a moment later. "One more thing." She drew close to his face again, her eyes narrowing in on him. "If you ever call me 'Your Grace' again, I will kick your ass."

She gave him one last hard kiss on the mouth and turned to leave him chuckling behind her.

* * *

Aero made her way easily into the keep. Half the guards were either drunk or preoccupied with women that it was hardly a challenge. She discarded the cloak she had borrowed on the same chair in the foyer. The party seemed to be nearly done; only a few stragglers remained in the Great Hall along with Joffrey and Jaime standing watch at Joffrey's side. A couple more Lannister men she couldn't name laughed loudly, spilling their ale at one of the side tables. She considered going in to apologize to Jaime for how she had spoken to him before, but ultimately she felt that it would lead to a confrontation with Joffrey and she was much too happy to let him ruin her night. Vowing to speak to Jaime at the wedding, Aero turned away from the last of the night's celebration to seek the warmth of her bed and share in her happiness with Bet.

Humming to herself as she made her way through the long corridors of the East tower, she met Evann in the hallway on his way down. Her heart leapt when she saw him, her best friend. She ran and launched herself at him. He caught her easily and spun her around. "You seem happy," he laughed, setting her back on her feet. "Where have you been?"

"With Gendry." She hoped her silly smile didn't give her away. She would tell him about what happened with Gendry, but not yet. His tendency to be overprotective sometimes overshadowed intelligent reasoning.

Evann's eyes narrowed, suspicious. "This late? We were worried."

Aero shrugged. "We were working. Lost track of time."

"You're lying," he countered immediately, scowling.

"How do you know?"

"Your nostrils flare when you lie," he explained with a tap on her nose. His features shifted from frustration back to concern and confusion. "Why would you need to lie to me? You tell me everything."

"I do not tell you everything," she scoffed.

"Really? Shall I name all of the things you share that I really don't need to know about? Your moon's blood being chief among those things." His trademark lopsided smirk slid up the side of his face.

"Fine." She waved him off and moved to walk past him. "Then this is one of those things."

He caught hold of her arm as she brushed past him, pulling her back around to face him. "Aero. What's going on? Why are you so late?"

She looked away, hesitating. "I… That is, Gendry and I… We…"

"Did he touch you?" Evann asked, tightening his grip on her arms.

"Well, yes. But only because I wanted him to," she was quick to add.

He dropped her arms and stepped away from her, shock. "Did you…?" He looked her over, taking in her disheveled hair and wrinkles in her dress. "Oh, Aero, you didn't." She looked away since it seemed she was unable to lie to him. He took it as confirmation. "Dammit, Aero. You gave yourself to him?"

Embarrassed at how easily her face gave her away, blood flooded her cheeks. "So what?" she spat. "You haven't been a virgin since you were ten and five years!"

"This isn't about me," he argued. "I know what I am, but you, you're good and kind and people take advantage of that."

"I thought you said you liked him."

"I said I liked him with the condition that he kept his hands to himself. Clearly, his hands were not kept to himself!"

Aero crossed her arms underneath her breasts to contain herself from throwing things at him while he raged at her. "Ovid approves," she mentioned casually, knowing the winged horse was a touchy subject with Evann. "She let him ride."

"That damn horse tried to bite me for two years before she would let me ride!" he huffed. "Have you even considered that he could be using you?"

Aero's momentary victory turned sour. "For what?"

"For-For what?!" Evann ran his hands through his hair as he always did when he was annoyed at her. "Aero, you're a fucking queen! Let's pretend you're not stupid enough to think he doesn't want something from you. Gold. Power. Land."

She hadn't thought that. Something else that hadn't occurred to her. She felt the bile in her stomach start to rise in her anger. "And it's absurd to think that he could want me because he loves me?"

"It's not absurd. It's just not likely. He's a lowborn, a bastard with nothing to his name."

"You're a lowborn!" she screamed. "And I would _never_ throw that in your face. Never. You think that he can't love me because of what he is. Do you love me because of what I can do for you? Because I give you money or because you hold a certain amount of power as my best friend?"

Evann held his hands up, defensively. "No! How could you even-"

"Then it must be me, right?" she interrupted. "I know I'm not delicate and beautiful the way Bet is beautiful. And I know that being a queen puts me into a different position than others. But you can't even consider the possibility that someone could want me because of who I am instead of what I am? What kind of friend believes that?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I love him, Evann. You don't know what he's like—the things he says."

"And no man has ever lied to a woman to get her to sleep with him," he replied, sarcasm dripping. Evann rolled his eyes at her sheer naivety.

"I'm right," she argued. "But if this turns out to be a huge mistake and you're right, I'm going to need you. But right now… Right now I can't even look at you. Because you think I'm stupid and naïve and maybe I was wrong about Jaime…" She had to pause to wipe away the tears that had escaped down her cheeks despite her stubbornness in trying to hold the in. "You have always been there for me. Without fail. And I have never doubted your friendship. Not once. I've argued with you. I've called you plenty of horrible names and you tell me when I'm being reckless and impulsive. But never before have you been cruel."

"I'm not-"

"Don't," Aero held up her hand to stop him. "I know you're being a dick about this because you love me and you want what's best for me, but I need you to go."

"Aero," he sighed softly, his big green eyes pleading to her.

"I was so happy, Evann," she sighed, defeated. She stepped away when he reached to comfort her. "I don't want to see you until we leave for Eryatheia."

"Aero," he tried again, but she had already passed him and it wasn't in her to look back at him when he had just broken her heart. She had never sent him away before. With the nasty, horrible things they'd said to each other over the years, she had never been so hurt and so angry that she didn't want to see him.

Bet met her at the door with a smile, but quickly realized something must be wrong. And to Aero's great relief, Bet didn't ask her to relive the argument with Evann. She didn't ask where Aero had been. She didn't ask why Aero was late. Instead, she tugged Aero's nightshirt over the queen's head, and led her to the large canopy bed where Aero curled up in the covers and rested her head in Bet's lap as Bet sang softly and smoothed out the tangles in the Queen's long, dark curls.

 **AN: So... There's that. I've never written smut before so I hope it's okay? And I know it's a cop out to have them both orgasming, but whatever. I like happy endings even if it's not terribly realistic. The rating has been bumped up to M. Just in case that wasn't clear.  
**


	15. The Purple Wedding

Aero had spent the night mulling her choices over in her head. Not just the choice to give herself to Gendry, but all of her choices. Her life had been spent in the pursuit of serving the realm—being the strong ruler that Eryatheia needed like her father before her. It was a purpose that she focused on ceaselessly, never considering an alternative. As far as she knew, there wasn't an alternative. Was it the right choice to come to King's Landing? She had heard that it would be dangerous, but she never expected to be the target of a pitifully angry boy king and his merciless mother. But Evann knew. He expected it. He had been right about everything, including Jaime. But he couldn't be right about Gendry. He just couldn't.

Crying on Bet's lap and spending most of the night wrestling with her subconscious had left her exhausted, even as she woke from fitful dreams. She frowned, still in the hazy state between slumber and waking. The screech of whetstone being dragged down steel permeated her senses and reminded her of her fight with Evann. She fought against the memory, turning on the soft feather mattress and pulling the covers tighter. The screech continued. She turned again, scowling until her head thudded into something firm that strongly smelled of leather. The screeching stopped and she felt fingers brushing at her forehead and through her hair.

"Aero?" The familiar voice of her best friend roused her a little more, helping her mind clear. "Are you planning on getting up today?"

She groaned low in her throat and stretched, kicking the covers off of her like she always did. "Not if I can help it," she answered, struggling to pull herself up to sit against the headboard. Her muscles ached and she didn't understand why until she remembered the only real physical activity she did yesterday was in Gendry's bed. The reddening in her cheeks came quicker than she thought and if Evann noticed, he chose to ignore it.

Silence settled around them, only disturbed by Evann continuing to drag his whetstone down the blade of his sword. She didn't regret the things she had said to him. But she did regret telling him to stay away.

"I didn't think you'd be here this morning," she tentatively began, smoothing her nightshirt down her thighs. She noticed that he was already dressed in his black silk tunic and nice leather trousers. It reminded her that the royal wedding would start soon. She would be expected to attend with a smile and give her congratulations to King Joffrey.

"You're my best friend," he answered with a shrug. "Where else would I be?"

Aero leaned her head against his shoulder, grateful to know that, in spite of everything, this wouldn't change.

"I don't like how much I hate that you're finally interested in someone," he sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Jealous?" she questioned, charmed despite still being annoyed with him.

"I'm secure enough with our friendship to admit that I've enjoyed being the only man in your life outside of your brothers and your father."

"You're still going to be my best friend, you know," she assured him.

"Things are going to change." He breathed deeply and leaned his head back against the large wooden bedframe.

"Things might change. But you and I, we always stay the same." She allowed a small smirk to creep up the side of her face. "You're always going to be a pain in the ass."

Evann chuckled and sheathed his sword back into the baldric on his lap. "And you'll always be too damn stubborn for your own good," he countered.

Aero nodded in agreement. "Always."

Evann lazily tossed his arm over her shoulders and scooped her closer, resting his temple on the top of her head. "So you and the blacksmith."

"You and my sister."  
He shrugged, jostling her slightly. "Yeah. Well. It had to be one of you. She doesn't punch me as much as you do."

"I'm happy for you," she said after a few moments. "Both of you." A lull passed where she waited for him to reciprocate. When he didn't, she decided to give him a little push. "Now tell me you're happy for me."

"I am happy for you," he conceded. "Doesn't mean I trust him."

" _I_ trust him."

"You trust too easily." Evann shook his head and reached over to take her hand, holding it in his. The Valyrian ring Gendry had made circled her fourth finger. Aero saw the recognition of Gendry's work in the metal pass over his face with a slight frown, but he said nothing. Instead, he linked his fingers with hers and sighed. "I'll be nice to him. But I'm going to be watching him," he grunted. "Very closely."

Aero turned her head so Evann couldn't see the small smile of victory on her face. "Fine," she shrugged, composing herself.

"Fine," he echoed with another grunt.

Having made up with Evann filled her heart with contentment. Even if it took a little while for him to see what she saw in Gendry, she was happy enough that he was willing to try. As stubborn as her best friend was, he was also fiercely protective of her. She understood that. She felt the same way about him.

Finding a comfortable spot with her head in the nook of his shoulder, she leaned into him and sighed, letting him play with her fingers and twist the Valyrian ring around her finger. They sat in silence, watching the slow progression of the sun across the floor as it blazed in through the east window. Bet found them like that, Aero tucked into Evann's side. Evann gave the blond a lazy smile.

Bet tilted her head at seeing Evann in her and Aero's bed and placed the large book she was holding onto the table before climbing onto the large canopy bed herself. She curled her body into Evann's other side as he freed his hand from Aero's and slipped his arm over Bet's shoulders. It was a nice moment until-

"Is this a bad time to bring up a dream I had where you were kissing each other?" Evann asked, breaking the moment. "OWW!" he groaned, having been punched in the chest by both women.

Evann continued to lounge in Aero's bed taking turns between sharpening his swords and reading over the new book that Bet had brought in while Bet was helping Aero wash and get dressed. It was when Bet pulled Aero's night dress over her head that she noticed a bite mark on the queen's shoulder. Checking to make sure that Evann was preoccupied, Bet pulled Aero to the looking glass. Aero could see the teeth marks clearly. Small dark smudges surrounded by angry purple flesh. "I can cover it with powder," Bet was quick to whisper.

Aero shook her head. "No," she insisted, running her fingers over the bruise, staring at herself in the mirror. Something visceral inside her enjoyed the sight of it. She had been claimed. "Leave it."

Bet spent extra time combing through Aero's hair and insisted on lining Aero's eyes with kohl to make them stand out. The black dress Bet had chosen for Aero clung to the young queen's body like a second skin.

The black beaded fabric came to points like hundreds of thin daggers that spider-webbed across her body and left very interesting gaps for the flesh to peek through. Though none more noticeable than her neckline. The pointed fabric feathered the edge of the deeply descending neck, leaving an ample amount of breasts visible, culminating in a W shape just where her sternum ended. And perhaps it was a might too scandalous for a Westerosi court, but Aero couldn't be bothered to care. She would be gone soon enough. She could leave Westeros behind and be back with her family starting a new life with Gendry. That was all she had to look forward to.

The finishing touch, Bet dug the black box containing the large crown from the bottom of Aero's clothes chest. Aero hadn't designed this one. In truth, the crown was over five hundred years old, passed down among the Vysrane queens. Long, thin shards of onyx, obsidian, and blood garnet were layered to look like four crossed feathers in the front. White gold laced in between the black shards to give the illusion of veins in the feathers. It was a dreadfully heavy thing and she much preferred her simple golden circlet. But she reminded herself that the Vysrane crown was another thing that was a part of her whether she liked it or not. Bet fitted the crown onto the young queen's head, adjusting it to balance the weight.

"You look beautiful," Bet cooed, fussing with the long black waves of Aero's hair. "Like a goddess from the olden days." Bet retrieved Aero's jeweled belt and sword for her, cinching it around the young queen's waist. "There. Done." Aero stepped in front of the looking glass again. She didn't feel like a goddess from the olden days. If anything, she looked like the statues she had seen of her great-great-grandmother, Xenobia. Xenobia the was a great warrior, and with her sword, Peacemaker, she laid low the Syntiian Uprising in Eryatheia—a group of upper class rogues that wanted to rejoin the slave trade for their own benefit. The same large eyes and delicate mouth that was etched into the stone faces of her great ancestor echoed back at her. Xenobia was not a Blessed One, but she was still one of the greatest leaders the Vysrane line had seen. The entire Vysrane line was a legacy that she tried not to dwell on, but weighed on her nonetheless.

With a heavy breath and one last look, Aero adjusted Shadow at her hip and motioned the others toward the door.

* * *

Making up with Evann made the world seem a little bit brighter somehow. It certainly improved her mood to have her best friend at her side as she followed along with the procession shuffling up the steps of the Sept of Baelor. The building had been decorated in flags and banners. Even on the inside, exquisitely embroidered tapestries hung from the balconies as the nobles shifted among each other to stand in the center well of the sept. Standing next to Margaery's family made the event more tolerable, though not nearly as enjoyable as it would have been to skip the wedding entirely. Sansa stood with Lord Tyrion across the way, and behind them, Prince Oberyn. Oberyn looked at her with soft, pitiful eyes. She would mend their relationship before she left King's Landing, but for now, the words he said still hurt her.

She was thinking of Gendry when Ser Jaime wandered into her line of vision dressed in his Kingsguard armor. He moved to stand next to Prince Tommen in the line of Lannisters across the front row. She disliked how she had left their last encounter—dismissing him when he was showing concern for her. She would make it up to him, she decided. When she could get a moment alone with him.

Margaery glided along the center aisle with her father, Mace Tyrell. She was beautiful and soft and elegant and all the things that Aero did not see in herself. But she felt pity for the young woman. To be married to such a monster. Margaery would be a queen, but at what cost? The perfumes of the women mixed with the smell of the roses adorning every available surface of the Sept wafted with the breeze. Aero couldn't determine if it was the smell or seeing someone so undeserving of hate marrying a beast, but something made her stomach churn. Mumbling apologies to Bet and Evann, Aero slipped away while the others were distracted by the ceremony.

The air outside was tainted with the smell similar to a chamber pot, but it was still preferable to being inside. Someone will have noticed her absence and informed the Lannisters. She would pay for it later, but for now, she enjoyed standing alone on the veranda. Guards were posted at the base of the Sept, keeping out unwanted guests, which, in Westeros, meant the common folk.

"You realize you do this more often than anyone should?"  
She recognized Jaime's voice before she could turn to confirm his appearance on the veranda behind her.

"And you follow despite every evidence that I leave a crowd to have a moment to myself."

Jaime shrugged but kept his distance. "I guess I just can't take a hint."

"I didn't expect you to check on me after I was short with you last night."

"As I said, Your Grace, hints are lost on me." Jaime bowed slightly as he addressed her. It made Aero's stomach turn even more than the air inside the Sept.  
"I'm sorry," she apologized before he could say something else that made her sick to her stomach. "You were concerned and I dismissed you because…" She shifted her weight uncertainly from one leg to the other. "I guess because Oberyn had hurt me and you always seem to catch me when I'm vulnerable. And it's infuriating."

"He hurt you?" Jaime crossed the small distance between them and took her chin in his hand, examining her for any marks. She could see the moment his eyes found the edge of the bruise on her shoulder, partially covered by her dress. She barely had time to yelp a "No!" before he pulled the collar of the dress aside to expose the purple smudged skin. She hastily pulled the collar from his hand and smoothed it back down.

"Oberyn did this to you?" Jaime narrowed his eyes.

"No. Not Oberyn." Aero smoothed the tight sleeves of her dress nervously.

Realization dawned on Jaime's face and he took a step back. "I see." He cleared his throat and put more distance between them. "My apologies." He took a moment to gather himself, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as always. "I need to… to get back to the wedding."

"Jaime," she started with a sigh.

"Will you find me at the feast so that we can speak?"

Aero nodded. "Yes. Of course."

Jaime paused as he looked her up and down with raised eyebrows, taking in her dress. "Gods be good," he sighed and rushed forward, passing through the doorway back into the Sept.

Aero waited just out of sight until the ceremony was over and the nobles began to pour from the mouth of the Sept. She found Bet and Evann near the back and seamlessly slipped into the procession back to the Red Keep where the Wedding Feast was to be held. The throne room was thoroughly decorated in Lannister colors, with minimal stags. Cersei's doing, Aero thought. Bet had requested to retire early to begin packing. Aero consented only if Evann were to escort her. There was something amiss in the massive throne room. Aero couldn't quite place it, but something in the energy of the room, the whispers, the flames of the torches on the wall. She felt her skin tingle and the hairs stand up on the back of her neck in a constant state of unrest. It was better if Bet were not present.

For once, she was not asked to sit at the head of the room with the Lannisters and the Tyrells. She and Evann were seated a few rows farther down among the lords still in league with the crown. It wasn't ideal, but she would never complain about being seated away from Joffrey and Cersei. People moved throughout the room during the seventy-seven dish meal. Entertainers were brought in from across Westeros, many hoping to win the king's favor with their various renditions of The Rains of Castamere. Bored with the slow tune, Joffrey threw coins at the musicians, dismissing them.

Jaime drifted at the edges of the feast, wandering, watching for any upsets or danger to the king. When Galeyon of Cuy approaches to entertain the wedding party with a song hailing the victory of the Battle of the Blackwater, Joffrey was so deep in his cups that he was more acting belligerent than usual.

Gritting her teeth at Joffrey's shrill voice, Aero slipped away from her seat to perform her queenly duties of greeting guests and mingling amongst Westeros' rich and powerful.

"What did I miss?" Evann asked sidling up beside her as she spoke to Garlan Tyrell and his wife Leonette Fossoway.

"Nothing of importance," Aero murmured so that only he could hear her. But his attention was already diverted to the food being carried in by the servants.

"Oh. They have those little square pastries that I like. Need anything?" he asked.

"No thanks." Aero shook her head. "But stay alert. Something feels off."

He nodded and snaked his way through the crowd to where he and Aero were meant to be seated. Behind them on the raised platform, she heard Joffrey call for jousters. She thought nothing of it until the crowd around her began to jeer and point. Dwarfs. Aero sighed. Joffrey's callous laugh echoed throughout the chamber. She could have stopped it. _Should_ have stopped it. The pathetic display meant to humiliate and shame Tyrion was perfectly on par with the king's disgusting humor. Tyrion's face became a blank mask if slightly reddened. He had certainly been through worse humiliation with a family like his. Aero moved to step forward to put an end to the spectacle, but Jaime caught her arm.

"He can handle it," Jaime growled low in his throat. His eyes were trained at his pernicious sister, laughing gleefully at the show. "You stopped Joffrey from beating Sansa, but if you challenge him in front of such a large crowd on his wedding day, Cersei will succeed in burning your ship this time and all of your men will die."

"Are you threatening me," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm saving you," he growled, holding tight to her arm.

She couldn't watch. Wouldn't watch. She turned her back to the scene, inwardly seething. "And who are you to allow such a thing? Why does no one stop him?" The terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach swelled.

"Because he is the king." Jaime tightened his grip and pulled her closer so that only she could hear. "Like it or not, he is the King of Westeros and will continue to be until he is old or poisoned because the gods know that he will never venture into danger with a war outside the walls."

"He is no king," Aero spat and jerked her arm from his hold. "He is a spoiled little boy with a crown that has never heard the word 'No.' I will be happy to teach him."

Aero was already reaching for her sword when a commotion erupted behind them. Margaery was yelling and in an instant, everyone was on their feet. The crowd stood and gaped at the scene as she and Jaime both moved at the same moment to shove through the mass of spectators. They broke through the throng to find Joffrey simultaneously gasping and vomiting on the floor. She had never seen someone die from poisoning, but she knew instantly that's what it was. She examined the vomit on the ground, thick with blood. Choking didn't do that.

The death was quick, but time slowed for Aero as she stood over the cruel king watched his face transition from red to a blotched purple. He knew he was going to die. He looked up at her, holding eye contact even as Cersei dragged him into her lap and pulled his face, demanding he focus on her. The look of fear in the eyes was the same as any man dying, poison or no. Blood streamed from his nose and his eyes had gone bloodshot. He was too far gone. There was nothing she could do for him. His spasms and attempted gasps for air slowed until he was still. His face became a pale sickly purple as the blood stopped pumping through his body and his dead eyes still stared at her.

Tearing her gaze away from the dead king, she looked around at the crowd. Tyrion inspected the wine cup Joffrey had been drinking from, but she no more suspected Tyrion of being the poisoner than herself. Who would have the most to gain from Joffrey's death? And she knew. Suddenly, she knew. She looked up at the Lady Olenna's face filled with false alarm. The old woman loved her granddaughter too much to let her live with a monster. Lady Olenna met Aero's eyes for a moment. If the woman was fazed as she recognized Aero knew the truth, it did not show on her face. A woman like that would go into the depths of every hell for her family. Aero knew that sentiment very well, and with a slight nod at the older woman, they had an understanding.

Cersei clutched at Joffrey's body, wailing. It took a moment for Aero to realize that her wails had turned into words—words that were directed at Aero.

"Save him!" the older woman demanded. "You can do magic, save him!"

Aero, feeling sympathy for the queen regent for the first time, shook her head. "I can't."

"You save him right now or I swear by the gods, I will have your head on a spike!"

"This isn't a wound that can be healed," Aero fired back. "Bringing the dead back to life would take too much energy. It would kill me."

"I don't give a damn about your life, do it!"

Aero steeled her eyes, looking down at them. "I won't."

"Then what good are you?! Guards! Arrest her! She killed your king!" Spit and dripping mucus flew from Cersei's mouth and she commanded the guards to close in on Aero. Ser Meryn took a step toward her. Aero flashed him and smile and a glare, daring him to come closer. He didn't.

With Shadow still at the ready, Aero knelt down beside Cersei. She understood grief and the terrible things it can do to a heart. "I didn't kill him and I'm not willing to sacrifice my life for his," Aero stated softly. "He's gone. I'm sorry."

Cersei shook her head as more tears rolled down her face. Evann pushed forward from the crowd and kneeled beside the two queens. "Let the men take him, Your Grace," he requested gently to Cersei and motioned to the Kingsguard that it was okay to move in. "You don't need to be here for this."

Cersei hiccupped and stifled another sob. But instead of giving in to Evann's request, she narrowed her eyes at him and gripped Joffrey's corpse tighter. "Seize the boy!" she screamed, her voice gone hoarse from crying.

When the Kingsguard had moved in, Ser Meryn had placed himself behind Evann. Before Evann was even fully standing, Ser Meryn had grabbed Evann from behind and pinned his arms to his side. As Aero also stood, she felt Jaime's arm go around her stomach to pull her away. In her mind, she knew he was either trying to pull her from harm or trying to keep her from killing Cersei, but the fear in her heart made her panic. She stomped down on Jaime's foot and elbowed him in the stomach hard enough that he let her go. Before he could take a breath, she had Shadow pointed at his throat.

"Save him!" she heard Cersei screech behind her. The panic subsiding slightly, she gave Jaime a nod and dropped her sword from his throat. She turned away, comfortable with him at her back. "You save him or Ser Meryn will cleave the boy so hard you'll have to ship him back to Eryatheia in pieces."

"Get up this instant, child," Twyin demanded, hovering at the edge of the circle that had gathered. "You're making fools of us all."

"He is your king!" she shouted, clutching at Joffrey's tunic and trying to pull him closer.

"He is dead!" Tywin spat harshly and reached for his daughter.

Realizing things were not going her way, Cersei reacted. "Kill him," she ordered quickly to Ser Meryn. Jaime made a motion to intervene, but Aero held out her arm to stop him.

Ser Meryn brought his sword underneath Evann's neck, the sharp edge digging into the skin. Evann swallowed and she saw red trickle down his throat. Aero's eyes narrowed at the sight. "Okay! Okay!" she gave in.

"Don't you do it, Aero!" Evann grunted and wriggled against the larger man. "Don't you give your life to save that piece of shit!" Ser Meryn tightened his grip and cut deeper into Evann's neck. "You can't!"

Aero clenched her fists as Evann tried harder to resist, blood now seeping from his wound. "Evann, stop." He stilled, eyes meeting hers. Her face was a blank mask, but Evann could see the defiance in her eyes. Her gaze bore into him and he knew what he had to do.

Trusting his best friend, Evann nodded, dropping his head forward, seemingly in defeat. Ser Meryn loosened the blade at Evann's neck. It gave Evann all the leverage he needed to slam his head back into Ser Meryn's nose. He ducked the blade and took advantage of Ser Meryn's still healing wrist and used his entire body weight to twist into the hold on his arms. He broke away and ducked just in time to see Aero's dark blade slice cleanly above him, taking off Ser Meryn's head. It landed with a clang a few meters away, helm still attached below the chin. Blood spurted feebly from the neck of the decapitated body as it folded in on itself and fell onto the ground.

There was a hush among the crowd as they all took a few steps back and Aero took the opportunity to use the dead Ser Meryn's white cloak to clean her sword of his blood. Evann pulled his double hook swords from the baldric over his shoulder. He twirled them once for good measure and moved to stand with his back to Aero's, rivulets of blood still trickling from the gash at his neck. If there was going to be a fight, they would go down fighting together.

But Aero seemed completely unperturbed. She sheathed her sword and moved to stand over Cersei, still holding Joffrey's corpse. Evann followed her, protecting her back and eyeing the onlookers.

Cersei's mouth hung open. She had lost her bargaining chip and she had lost her son.

Aero looked down at the woman with pity and disgust. "You tried to take away my best friend, one of the people I love most in this world. But what do you know of friendship with your scheming and lies? A curse upon you, Cersei Lannister. This is a debt that cannot be paid in gold." Finding Tywin again, Aero motioned toward Cersei. "Eryatheia is sorry for your loss, but I cannot abide the attempt to burn my ship, kill my men, and my family."

"And you," Evann was quick to add. "They tried to kill you, too."

Aero stood her ground and faced the older man. He had more experience. With killing. With commanding. There was a reason he was called the most powerful man in Westeros. "These transgressions are grounds for war. But Eryatheia does not punish the whole for the actions of a few." She opened her hand to extend to Lord Tywin.

Weighing his options, his eyes traveled from his daughter's tear streaked face curled up in a snarl to the young queen's open hand—an olive branch, a symbol of peace and mercy. It was a discussion that they already had, the crown could not afford to fight another country when there was already so much in-fighting amongst the seven kingdoms. He took Aero's hand and shook. "Westeros appreciates your understanding."

She nodded, though not completely trusting his promise of a truce. "We will leave at first light. Keep her away from my people until then."

Cersei glared up at Aero with hate and malice in her eyes. "You will burn for this," she threatened.

"Lions burn," she countered. "A phoenix is born in flames."


	16. The Void

It was snowing. She didn't feel the cold, but it unnerved her. It had been a long summer and she, herself, had only ever seen two short winters. The white powder drifted around her and danced in the light wind. It was beautiful. Until it wasn't. The gentle wind became a gale and the cold slashed at her face. And then the still and the silent descended. As quickly as it rose, the wind quieted until there was nothing. No wolves howling. No insects chirping. Not the crackle of her torch. Not even the sound of her own feet as she walked across the dense powder. It was a wasteland of white.

* * *

Aero jerked herself awake out of the stillness and sat upright in her bed. Bet nudged at the queen even as she was coming out of her sleep haze. Bet's eyes were wide glancing back between Aero and the chamber door. It wasn't until Aero's senses came back to her and she was able to hear again that she understood that someone was at the door. A very persistent someone by the sound of it.

The knocks came in rapid fire with a deep, guttural voice that sounded like it was trying to whisper but had grown impatient. "Queen Aero! Please wake up! Damn you to all the hells, how are you able to sleep like the dead?!"

Aero pulled the door open just as the man was about to begin another round of banging his fist against the wood. A member of her crew, Kraig, pushed into the room and closed the door quickly behind him. He was new, Aero remembered. Chosen to accompany her to Westeros because of his stealth more than his ability with a sword. That would explain how he managed to get into the castle but wouldn't open his queen's door without permission.

"Begging your pardon, Your Grace," he began, breathless, without waiting for her to address him. "They have him."

Aero shook her head, confused. "Who has what?"

"Your blacksmith," he answered hastily and a cold chill ran down Aero's spine. "Four men. I was on my way back to the ship from a drink North in the city. I was walking down the Street of Steel when I recognized your master's forge. Tallest building on the row—the one with the carved doors. There was a commotion. Yelling. So I hid in the shadows. They pulled him through the alley. He was limp, Your Grace—Aero. And there was blood dripping from his head. I couldn't tell if he had been knocked out or if he was…" Kraig trailed off finally taking a deep breath after rushing through his story.

Aero's nerves began to sing and her heart raced. She couldn't tell if it was fear or anger. "Where?" was all she could manage.

"Here," he reaffirmed her suspicion. "I followed them here, but I lost them in the tunnels. They came in through a hidden door I'd never seen before."

A million emotions and a million thoughts running through her mind, Aero had to shut them down to breathe. Evann was right. She was impulsive and reckless. But if she was going to save Gendry, she couldn't go in with all rage and no strategy.

Tiny pin pricks poked into her arm and she realized that Bet was at her side digging her nails into Aero's arm. A harsh jerk from Bet pulled her back into focus.

"Pants. Right now." She pulled at Aero's hand until Aero followed her over to one of the chests that Bet had only finished packing before they went to bed. "Turn around," she commanded, barking the order at Kraig.

"Yes, my lady," he stuttered, flushed and turned his back to them.

There was no time to put Aero in a dress or bind her breasts, but Bet helped Aero into her trousers and boots before handing Aero her sword belt.

"Pack a bag," she instructed Bet. "No more than you can carry comfortably. Only important items. My things are not important. Do you understand?"

Bet nodded. Aero could see the willful determination in the girl's eyes, but there was also fear.

"Kraig!"

Startled, Kraig jolted at Aero's call and moved to join them now that Aero was dressed. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Make sure she gets out of here. As soon as she gets done packing, you take her, and you run." Aero reached out to grip the man's shoulder, her eyes level with his. "Get to the ship and you set sail. Evann is not to leave the ship. Put him in irons if you have to, but do not let him come after me."

"Yes, Your Grace."

She turned back to Bet and saw that the panic had started to set in. "Look at me." Aero grabbed Bet by the side of her neck and pulled her so that they were faced together. "Look at me," Aero repeated. "Keep him on the ship. I don't care what you have to do, but don't let him come back here. Go home to Eryatheia and have so many babies that you don't know what to do with them all." Aero moved to pick up her thin circlet from the table next to them and placed it on Bet's golden hair. "You are a Vysrane now and that means that you are strong when others are weak. You are a lady of my House and you are my sister in all but blood. But we can fix that." Aero's eyes narrowed down at Bet's hand gripped in hers. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, Aero pulled the dagger from the belt at her waist and sliced down her palm. The dark red blood flowed from the deep cut and dropped to the floor as she reached for Bet's hand, holding it palm up. Bet nodded her permission when Aero glanced up questioningly. Aero dragged the blade across Bet's palm, being more careful than with her own. "My blood," Aero began, wiping the red from her dagger onto her trousers, "I bequeath to you all rights, privileges, and responsibilities afforded to a daughter of my House."

"I don't want it if you're not there, too." Bet interrupted, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes as she finally began to understand why Aero was doing all this.

"You're my sister." Aero argued, pressing her bloody hand into Bet's. A ball of heat formed between their palms and Aero felt an odd itching sensation like wounds that were healing. "We may not have been raised together. And we may not get to grow old together. But you are my family. This is the only way I know how to protect you."

Aero had never tried to spell a human before. She had given Jaime back his hand, but that was physical. It didn't change the makeup of what he was. But even as she murmured the words over their joined hands, Aero knew it was going to work. She felt the magics tug deep inside of her chest letting her know that it wasn't for nothing. There was a moment when the candles flickered as they did in the Great Hall and Bet gasped. The whorl marks that decorated Aero's body reflected in Bet, flowing up her arm and down into the rest of her body. They shone for barely the time it took to breathe in, and then they melted into her skin without leaving any indication that they had been there in the first place.

When Aero pulled her hand from Bet's the cuts across their palms had healed over, but blood still stained her skin. "My blood will keep you safe," she vowed.

Bet responded by wrapping her arms tightly around the queen's waist. "Promise me you'll make it to the ship," the girl pleaded.

Aero shook her head and rested her cheek against Bet's temple. "I need you to take care of him for me, okay?"

Bet nodded, not trusting herself to speak without crying.

"I love you," Aero whispered, pressing a kiss to Bet's forehead underneath the golden circlet and pulling the girl's arms from around her waist.

She didn't look back. She just gave Kraig one last instruction. "Get her out. Keep her safe."

He nodded as she closed the door to the chamber behind her.

It was quiet in the Keep. On a normal night, ladies would be moving down the long corridors fetching things for their lords or ladies. Occasionally there would be a Gold Cloak wandering the halls for security, but they were more likely found down in the kitchen. Whether by chance or by design, her path was clear as she ran, the walls a blur of red brick and occasional torchlight. She jumped down stairs and pushed forward, her breathing and her footsteps drowned out by the labyrinth of thoughts in her head. It had to be the Great Hall, she decided. Cersei would bring him to the place where she could most calculatingly assert her power. Turn after turn in the long corridors of the Keep led her to the throne room. As she grew closer, her stomach rose higher in her chest until she was standing before the great doors easily three times her height.

Without wasting time to catch her breath, she pulled at the massive wooden doors and darted inside.

Cersei was standing on the highest platform just in front of the Iron Throne with Ilyn Payne and Gendry, shirtless and on his knees below her. The room was dark with only the fire in the grates around the center columns for light, but she could see the blood dripping down the side of Gendry's face as Ser Ilyn held the blacksmith up by his hair.

"Oh, good. You're here," Cersei hummed, smiling. "Now we don't have to send for you." Aero made to pull her sword, but Cersei clucked at her and shook her head. "No, no. There will be none of that." Ser Ilyn gripped Gendry's hair harder and jerked his head back. They had beaten him. It wasn't just a small trickle of blood, his face was covered in angry red flesh, swelling by the moment, where blood had streamed over his eye and down his cheek. His nose was clearly broken, but he was alive. In spite of the current situation, Aero breathed a sigh of relief. The aging Ser Ilyn was no match for her. But she still had to get Gendry away from him.

Gendry's eyes opened slightly as Aero stepped closer, hands raised to show that she wasn't reaching for her sword. Recognizing that the advancing figure was her, his eyes went wide and he began to fight against Ser Ilyn, attempting to pull away from the executioner until the old man brought his sword underneath Gendry's chin. He tried to sputter some words, but they were lost when Ser Ilyn pressed the flat of his blade into Gendry's throat.

"Let him go," Aero demanded, her face set and her eyebrows drawn together. "Take me and let him go."

Cersei sat on the Iron Throne and took a moment, as though she were actually considering Aero's proposal. "No," she answered curtly. "I want you to see what it feels like to have something you love taken from you."

Aero's eyes narrowed. "I didn't kill Joffrey."

"Oh, little queen," Cersei shook her head. "Do you really think that matters?" Aero's heart dropped realizing the queen would not be reasoned with. "To be honest," Cersei continued, "I was going to make more of a show of this, but I'm already bored."

Cersei lifted her hand to signal, and without warning Ilyn Payne brought the sword from Gendry's throat and swiftly stabbed him through the back.

Gendry made an involuntary gurgle as the sword ripped through his torso and protruded from his chest.

Aero screamed and the fire in the grates swelled higher. She screamed so loud that she didn't hear the sickening squelch as Ser Ilyn removed his sword from Gendry's back. Or the heavy grunt that Gendry gave when Ser Ilyn pushed him over to his side. Ser Ilyn steped away with a self-satisfied smirk on his face as Aero reached Gendry. She pulled his body, slick with blood, onto her lap. He was still alive, but his color was fading. Ser Ilyn had missed Gendry's heart, but the blood that flowed from the fatal wounds could not be stopped.

Gendry looked up at her, scared, as she tried to cover the wound in his chest with her hands. His warm blood seeped from the spaces between her fingers no matter how hard she tried to contain it. She had seen wounds like this before. Grown men bled out and lost consciousness sometimes in a matter of only a few heartbeats.

"There's too much blood," she cried, frantically. "I can't stop it. I can't… I don't know what to do. It's my fault. I'm so sorry."

Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as she cried. She couldn't remember ever feeling so helpless before. Aero watched his face pass from fear to acceptance and in his last moments, he lifted his hand to touch her cheek. She held his palm to her face when he was too weak to hold it there himself. And then he was gone.

She cried and rocked his body against her chest, his still-warm blood pouring freely from his wounds, seeping into her clothes and pooling onto the floor around them. In her grief, she did the only thing she could think of—one last, desperate cry for help—she prayed to the Valkyrie to take her life and give it to him or let them both die and be lifted up to the stars like in the legends. If she was to die anyway, let this be her last act of love. Her damaged soul for his pure one. It didn't seem like a fair trade, but perhaps the Valkyrie would have mercy on her. She prayed to the Valkyrie to grant her this and she would spend all of the afterlife serving the Valkyrie if that was what was asked of her. Whispering the words in old Eryatheian, she closed her eyes tight and felt a lightness enter her body. A feeling of ice spread from her chest to the tips of her fingers and toes followed by dense thud in her heart. The flames around the columns began to flare brighter and the stones in the great hall began to shake as she felt herself rise from the floor. Her mind wanted Gendry. To be close to him, to hold his body as Cersei had held Joffrey's, protecting him. But she no longer had control of herself. When the stones started to shift and crack, it wasn't because she was angry. An eerie Calm fell over her and she felt her mind disconnect from her body like she had fallen into an abyss. And suddenly, everything was still. Aero's body turned toward Cersei. The older queen had risen from her seat at the Iron Throne and now stood over them, observing with callous enjoyment.

Aero's hand reached for the sword at her hip. The singing of the metal being drawn from its sheath was the last thing they heard before the fires went dark and the Great Hall was plunged into darkness.

Silent as death, Aero conceded her body to the Calm within her as it led her into the blackness. Her sword struck out into the void where she could not see when Ser Ilyn cried out into the dark, an exclamation with no words, made even more disturbing by his missing tongue. A dull plop sounded as Ser Ilyn's head fell to the floor. His body followed with a deep thud as it collapsed.

Soundlessly, Aero's body began to move again, this time carrying her up the steps to the Iron Throne. She was closer to Cersei now. The ragged breaths of fear were unmistakable. Some sadistic part of Aero reveled in that fear. Closer still, Aero stood before Cersei less than an arm's length away. Her markings began to vibrate underneath her skin. She could feel the ice leave her chest and the Calm drip from her fingertips. Fire replaced the ice around her heart, heat sparking through her veins. The whorls ignited across her skin in a single burst of light. Cersei shrieked and drew back using her forearm to shield her eyes from the light.

A voice came from Aero's mouth very unlike her own. It was low and warm like embers in a dying hearth, speaking in a tongue older even than the language of the Northern Wanderers of Eryatheia. But Aero understood the words just as she knew Cersei understood the words. "The Targaryen dragons may breathe fire," the voice said. "But I _am_ fire. I will burn this keep to the ground and you with it. I will tear this city apart stone by stone until you are nothing but a queen of rubble and ash."

Aero's body moved closer, reaching out to the older queen. "It is not my destiny to kill you, Cersei Lannister," the voice continued. "But I will make sure you suffer." Aero's hand lifted on its own accord, a single finger extending to Cersei's forehead. Her fingertip glowed white, burning a V into Cersei's forehead all the while humming words that would cause misfortune and hardship upon the bearer of the brand. By magic or her own fear, Cersei remained still though the smell of burning flesh filled the room and Cersei cried out in pain.

"Aero!"

Jaime's voice carried through the nearly empty chamber, still drowned in darkness but for the markings that continued to burn on Aero's skin.

"Jaime!" Cersei called out to her brother, her voice breaking.

"You shouldn't be here," the voice addressed him.

"Jaime, she's trying to kill me! She- " Cersei's pleas to her brother were cut short with a wave of Aero's hand. Cersei's voice had been stolen from her.

"Quiet," the voice commanded. Cersei clutched at her throat, panic stricken and still unable to move.

Aero glided down the steps, not bothering to sidestep the pool of Ser Ilyn's blood as she made her way back to Gendry's lifeless body splayed out on the stone floor.

"What have you done?" Jaime whispered disbelievingly as he took in the scene. The light emanating from Aero illuminated the pieces of Ser Ilyn and the bloodied body of the blacksmith as well as Aero herself covered in blood not her own. Gendry's skin had turned a shade of pale alabaster.

Aero knelt at Gendry's side. The heat inside her chest grew. Whatever was within her recognized Gendry. It pushed his disheveled hair out of his face and traced a line down the side of his cheek. In her head, Aero heard the voice speak to her. Only, in her head, it spoke to her with feelings and images rather than words. It showed her images from her memory of Gendry in the forge, Aero watching the way his muscles moved as he hammered a breastplate. It reminded her of how her heart swelled when Gendry had wrapped his arms around her when they were riding Ovid, how her stomach gave a little flip when she heard him laugh the first time. It showed her Gendry's face above hers as they made love on his tiny cot and she felt his hands on her body. "Love?" the voice was asking.

"Yes," Aero replied in her mind.

Aero suddenly felt her heart being squeezed. It felt like an invisible hand had reached itself inside her chest and crushed her heart so tight that it couldn't beat. The feeling of a candle burning down returned to her and she finally understood.

"What would you give?" the voice asked her.

"Everything," she replied.

The voice went quiet inside her head, but it still had hold of her body. Sliding the Valyrian Steel ring from Aero's fourth finger, it took the small circle and held the smoky grey metal in the palm of Aero's hand. The tug of magics at her chest was a welcome and familiar feeling from the invader in her body. The ring levitated from her palm and began to twirl until it spun so fast the force had turned it white with heat. The metal dripped, pooling in Aero's hand and though it didn't seem to be blistering her skin, she felt the pain. She cried out inside her head, but the voice paid her no mind. Instead, it reached across Gendry's lifeless form and dripped the metal into his open wound. The blood and exposed insides sizzled under the blinding heat of the melted metal. But the metal did something Aero did not expect. As it seeped into Gendry's wound, she could see the metal forming bridges, reattaching muscles, flowing into his veins. Whatever special properties Valyrian Steel held, this was not one that she had heard of.

As she could see the damage in Gendry being repaired, she felt her own energy waver. The more whole he became, the weaker she felt. _I asked for this,_ she thought to herself. _I prayed for this. The Valkyrie will take my life for his. I am content._

As her strength waned, her limbs began to grow restless. She was more aware of her body. It, the voice, the Valkyrie, whatever it was, it was fading with her. And while the ice had drained from her gradually, the warmth in her chest was stolen from her as easily as someone blowing out a candle. Aero came back to herself. Gone was the Calm. Gone was the serenity of the heat in her heart and the contentment of dying a virtuous death. Her strength was almost gone as well, and with it, her ability to reign in her magics. Upon seeing Cersei run to Jaime now that she was freed from the compulsion to stand still, Aero's anger and hate deepend. The floor beneath them began to tremble as Aero's emotions, chaotic with weakness, expressed itself by cracking one of the large pillars down the middle.

Cersei held on to Jaime's arm trying to pull him from the room. "Please. We have to go," she begged just as a large stone from the roof came loose landing very near them.

"Aero!" Jaime cried out for her.

Her brain was clouded and she felt like her heart was running on a last rush of adrenaline. Gendry's wounds had closed, but he was still pale and he had yet to wake up. She pulled his head into her lap and brushed his hair to the side, tracing his strong browline.

"Get out of here, Jaime!" she pleaded with him.

Another large rock landed close and she threw herself over Gendry's body to protect him.

"I'm not leaving without you!" Jaime argued, Cersei still clutching at him.

Aero shook her head. "I can't control it." The stones in the walls began to tremor and the torches flared, throwing out sparks. "This is it." She looked around in wonder at her surroundings in the shadow of the Iron Throne. "The end of the candle… This is how I die."

"Jaime!" Cersei pulled at Jaime's arm with all the strength her small frame could muster, but he discarded her as easily as flicking off a fly. Her eyes still wide with terror, Cersei retreated, darting around the fallen stones and out of the Great Hall.

"You have to go," Aero begged, still protecting Gendry with her body. The rumble underneath them grew stronger and a pillar beside them gave way, breaking into fragments over the Iron Throne's jagged points.

"I'm not leaving without you!" he insisted. He held his arms out at his sides to keep his balance as he made his way toward her.

"Jaime, I mean it. I can't… I can't get control. Get out!" Another rock let loose from the vaulted ceiling and rained rubble and dust over them. The stone landed with a sickening splat exactly on Ilyn Payne's head sending a spray of lukewarm blood in every direction.

"You don't give me orders," he growled, finally reaching her.

"Please," she begged again, trying to push him away while he attempted to lift her from the floor. "I don't want you to die. You're not supposed to die here." The energy consuming her body made her head swim and her arms shook at the effort it took to lift them.

"Neither are you."

He finally succeeded in pulling her up despite her fighting him. But the moment he lifted her into his arms and she lost contact with Gendry, everything went black.


End file.
